


Of Queens, Horses, and Red Strings

by AriadneKurosaki



Category: Bleach
Genre: 686 compliant, Additional Pairings TBA, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone is just a smidge terrible, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Not technically adultery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 96,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: Zangetsu awakens for the first time in years and sees what has become of the King and the Queen.It's time to take matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Sode no Shirayuki/Zangetsu
Comments: 334
Kudos: 318





	1. Ten Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Of Queens, Horses, and Red Strings. This is a multi-chapter work set within and after chapter 686. Additional notes and warnings are in end notes.

[](https://ibb.co/qxNYV6v)

“They’re here!”

Orihime’s voice startled Ichigo out of his thoughts, and he looked in the mirror of their bathroom one more time. His lips curved into a smile, but it looked forced, and he settled for scrubbing a hand through his too-short hair to fix it. Random pieces flopped over, too short to be bangs and too long to stay neatly in place. _I look like I lost a bet._

He glanced down at the faded t-shirt he was wearing and shrugged. At least it wasn’t stained. Ichigo opened the bathroom door and walked down the stairs of the Kurosaki family home to greet their guests.

“Ichigooooo!” Keigo’s voice still grated on Ichigo’s ears after so long, and he clotheslined the shorter man as he tried to take a flying leap to grab onto him.

“Try not to break anything this time,” Mizuiro said cheerfully as he helped Keigo up. “Hi, Ichigo. We brought snacks.”

“Thanks, Kojima. Everything’s set up in the living room.” Ichigo pointed, and Mizuiro carried in both Keigo and a large, overfilled plastic bag.

“Is Ishida coming?”

“Oh, it’s so unfortunate, Ishida-kun couldn’t get the day off from work,” Orihime’s high voice echoed from the kitchen. “But Rukia and Renji should be here soon.”

And then – there she was. Ichigo opened the door again and Rukia was standing in front of him. His heart leapt for the first time in a decade as he looked at her, standing in his home and smiling up at him fondly. Their eyes met and it was as if no one else existed. Ichigo barely managed to get out of the doorway in time for Renji to push past them, clapping a hand on Ichigo’s shoulder before he went into the living room where the television and snacks were set up.

“I missed you,” Rukia admitted quietly, when it was just them in the entryway of his home.

The rain stopped for just a moment as Ichigo said, equally soft, “It’s good to see you, Rukia. It’s been a really long time.” His eyes focused on hers and his lips curved just slightly. He hadn’t seen her since her wedding over nine years ago. Like a good friend, Ichigo had gone to the wedding, had taken pictures with Inoue’s new camera, and had even sewn strawberry flowers onto Rukia’s veil. He had been careful not to look too closely at Rukia during the wedding; to agree with Inoue that her tears were happy ones. It helped that she’d smiled at him and at Inoue, who cried as passionately as if it had been her own wedding. Ichigo had pretended not to notice that her smile faded away as soon as she looked away from them.

He'd ignored the fact that the rain began again the day of her engagement.

It had been Orihime’s idea to invite them today, to get a message to Soul Society and see their friends for the first time in so many years. He didn’t know where the time had gone or how it was possible that he was suddenly 28 years old.

“Even without a war it’s busy in Soul Society. And I’m captain of the Thirteenth now.” Ichigo could hear the quiet pride in her voice.

“A captain? Since when?”

“The ceremony to make things official was this morning – it’s why Renji and I were late. I’d been acting captain since…” Rukia trailed off.

“ _This morning_?” Ichigo repeated. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? I – we would have come to see it.” Despite his irritation at being left out of the loop, his hand found hers and wrapped around it, squeezing gently. He knew what she hadn’t finished saying: that she’d been acting as a captain since Ukitake’s death a decade ago at the hands of Yhwach. Ichigo spared a thought for the late captain, who’d always been kind to him and who had supported Rukia.

“Idiot.” The word was said with affection. “Only captains and lieutenants attend the ceremony.” Left unsaid: she hadn’t wanted to make a fuss of it.

Ichigo squeezed her hand again. “This is your party too, then. Che, not telling anyone…Ino—Orihime’s going to be upset, she would have baked a cake. And we’ll have to call you Captain Abarai from now on, I guess.”

Rukia blanched and pulled her hand from his with a sharp tug. “ _Kuchiki._ It’s Captain Kuchiki, I didn’t change my name,” she exclaimed sharply, although she kept her voice down. When Ichigo’s eyebrows climbed nearly all the way into his hairline, Rukia put on a smile and waved her hands quickly in front of her as if to ward off his attention. “And anyway, I wouldn’t have wanted Orihime to make a fuss! Aren’t we here to watch Chad’s fight?” Her tone was light, though her eyes couldn’t meet his. 

“Yeah. Guess it’s starting in a few minutes, you should go sit down. And weren’t you going to bring your…” Ichigo choked on the word but managed to stutter out, “daughter?”

That stutter resulted in a sharp look from Rukia, but she shrugged. “Ichika’s around somewhere. I’m sure she’ll get here soon.”

“Get here soon? You mean you let a little kid run around Karakura by herself?” Ichigo spluttered. “What the hell, Rukia?”

“Even in one of Urahara’s gigai she can take care of herself. And _I_ was running around unattended in the Rukongai when I was her age. It’s not like there’s anything in Karakura that can harm her.”

Ichigo’s jaw dropped and he just stared at Rukia incredulously. Zangetsu chose that moment to wake for the first time in ten years and _howl_. Time stopped and Ichigo stared down into Rukia’s violet eyes, his body shaking minutely, and amber eyes gone blank.

“Ichigo?” Rukia alone seemed to notice the tendrils of dark reiatsu that surrounded them – everyone in the living room was still chatting. “Ichigo?” she repeated. Rukia’s voice was soft, and she reached out as if to touch him, but her hand flinched back as a very different reiatsu buzzed menacingly throughout the home.

Zangetsu quieted immediately; Ichigo shook his head once, to clear it. “That’s…!” He raced up the stairs to Kazui’s room, ignoring a shout from Tatsuki, who’d heard the sudden pounding on the steps. By the time he shoved his son’s door open, Rukia right behind him, the reiatsu was gone.

“What –” Ichigo stared at his son and a girl he assumed had to be Ichika, who was holding a sheathed sword and apparently laughing at something that Kazui had said.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Kazui asked, when he noticed that his dad was standing in the doorway, face set in a scowl.

Ichigo shook his head again. “Was someone else here just now? Did either of you feel something?”

Before Ichika or Kazui could answer, Rukia pushed past Ichigo into the bedroom. Her pretty, pale blue dress swung around her legs as she moved. Her hair had gotten much longer, Ichigo suddenly noticed, and it hung to her waist freely. Her arms were bare except for narrow straps that tied together into bows at the top of each shoulder. He felt himself flushing at the sight of her nearly-bare shoulders and looked away quickly.

“Are you both alright?” Rukia asked.

Ichigo took a moment to look at Rukia’s daughter. She looked so much like Rukia it hurt: the same delicate face shape, the same eyes. The girl’s hair was bright red like Renji’s – Ichigo tilted his head slightly. _Did Rukia dye Ichika’s hair?_ he asked himself. The red didn’t go quite all the way to her roots, where he could have sworn a lighter color peeked out. Maybe it was just the light in Kazui’s room. Zangetsu grumbled something beneath Ichigo’s thoughts and to his surprise, something _protective_ slid through the grumbling. _Well she_ is _Rukia’s daughter,_ Ichigo thought.

Ichika shrugged. “There was a black hole in the room a minute ago. Kazui stuck his hand in it, and the hole went away.”

Ichigo’s head whipped around to stare at the two children. “It went away? Are you sure?” He stepped further into the bedroom, looking over Kazui. “You okay, Kazui?” He received a nod in return.

“There’s nothing here anymore,” Rukia said. “It…felt like Yhwach, don’t you think so Ichigo? I’ll have to report this to Kyōraku Soutaicho when Renji and I leave.”

Ichigo nodded briefly. “Yeah – but it’s completely gone now. Maybe one of Kurotsuchi’s machines picked up something?”

Rukia nodded briefly and put on another smile. “Ichika, I’d like you to meet Kurosaki Ichigo. He’s…” The pause was so brief that only Ichigo noticed the lapse. “A very good friend.”

Ichika jumped down from the dresser she’d been perched on and offered Ichigo a brief bow. “Nice to meet you, Kurosaki-san,” she said.

“Yeah, likewise,” Ichigo replied, distracted a second time by her hair. He shook himself and his eyes met Rukia’s in a silent question – but hers were shuttered. “This is Kazui. Kazui, this is Kuchiki Rukia.”

Kazui smiled up at Rukia and bowed to her; Rukia bowed gravely in reply, but then grinned down at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Kazui.” The boy looked exactly like Orihime, she thought. He even had her gray eyes.

“Ichi-nii, Rukia-chan! Chad’s fight is about to start!” Yuzu called from the stairwell. “Come downstairs before Asano-san eats all the popcorn!”

“What’s popcorn?” Ichika asked, even as Kazui’s face lit up.

“Come on, we can get some from Oba-san!” Kazui exclaimed, and the two children ran downstairs without a backward glance at their parents.

Ichigo shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at Rukia. “I guess we should join them,” he suggested.

Rukia’s lips curved down into a slight frown and her eyes looked – hurt – for just a second. “Ichigo…” she started.

“The fight’s going to start,” he said.

They looked at one another in silence, her body leaning towards his and his head hanging down. Then they both turned and walked downstairs. For less than a second, a red string appeared between them, twisted and frayed.

That night, after their guests had left and he’d cleaned up the spilled popcorn from when Chad had landed a particularly good punch and Keigo had knocked over one of the popcorn buckets in his enthusiasm, Ichigo laid down on the couch and tried to fall asleep. He often spent the night on the couch with insomnia, and Orihime claimed he snored when he’d been drinking. Even though he’d only had two beers he didn’t want to keep her awake.

_Rukia was just behind him, Sode no Shirayuki released into its shikai state. Ichigo was already in bankai, clad in the white bone of Zangetsu with one curved, sharp horn adorning his head. The hilt of his zanpakutō felt awkward in his hands, yet another different shape and size after he and Rukia had left the Zero Division._

_“I have already seen all of the possibilities, Ichigo,” Yhwach told him as Ichigo rushed forward, Zangetsu ready to strike. “I have seen every move you could make. And I have seen what will break you.” Even as Ichigo reached him, Yhwach lightly touched Zangetsu, which shattered in his hands. Ichigo fell back, blood spraying from the open slash across his chest._

_“Yes, I have seen it. It’s a pity – she was such a pretty girl.” As he said the words, Rukia screamed, and the sound sent fear shuddering through Ichigo’s heart. He struggled to climb to his feet and sought out Rukia._

_Just in time to see her fall, blood spraying from a slash that nearly bisected her. “RUKIA!” Ichigo clutched his shihakusho shut across his chest to stem his own bleeding and rushed to her, ignoring Yhwach’s low laughter._

**_You couldn’t protect the Queen,_ ** _Zangetsu growled as Ichigo threw himself down beside Rukia and pulled her into his arms. He grabbed the white bandaging that remained of his zanpakuto, wrapping it around Rukia’s chest in a futile effort to reduce the bleeding until someone – anyone – could heal her. She looked up at him, violet eyes already growing dim, and tried to smile._

_“I’m…sorry I wasn’t strong enough,” she whispered. “I l—”_

_“RUKIA!” Ichigo’s reiatsu spiraled out of control, obliterating the ground around them as the shinigami in his arms died and Zangetsu howled his rage._

Ichigo bolted upright on the couch with a shout, narrowly missing the coffee table with his legs. His hair was plastered to his forehead, slick with sweat, and he could feel more dripping down the back of his neck. He was panting, breathing hard as if he had run a mile, and his chest ached as if Yhwach’s strike had been real.

He opened his eyes and saw only the living room, with its beige walls and light, neutral-toned furniture. There was no sign of the destroyed Seireitei. Ichigo fell back against the soft couch cushions and let his head drop into his hands. _Just a dream_. Yhwach was gone, and Rukia wasn’t dead – he’d seen her just hours ago, healthy and whole.

And happy, he supposed. From the day he’d stopped the Sokyoku from obliterating her soul, he’d wanted her to be happy and safe. If Renji made her happy and protected her, wasn’t that a good thing? _It was a good thing_ , he reminded himself.

When his breathing settled, Ichigo rose again and walked into the kitchen on bare feet. He poured himself a glass of water and glanced at the clock on the oven: it was three in the morning. “I didn’t even drink much,” he grumbled to himself. _Maybe it was all the popcorn and sweets._

 _Maybe it was Rukia being here,_ his conscience whispered as he walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch. She and Renji had lingered after everyone else had gone, under the pretext that Ichika and Kazui were having fun getting to know one another. That was when the beer had come out, and Orihime had quickly plated some _ika ten_ and small _onigiri_ for everyone to enjoy. As one drink turned into two, she had brought out _gyoza_ as well. Those had been more of a mixed bag: Orihime still liked to…experiment in the kitchen, and some of the small dumplings had been filled with odd combinations. Watching Renji try to figure out which gyoza were filled with shrimp and sweet red bean paste, and which held the more normal mixture of seasoned pork, had been entertaining.

Ichika had been restless and overtired by the time they’d all finished their second beers. Ichigo remembered the scowl on her face and for just a moment he’d thought it looked eerily familiar. _Must have gotten that from Renji_ , he remembered thinking.

Renji and Ichika had left first, the former carrying his sleepy daughter over one shoulder. Rukia had lingered for just a moment longer under the blue lights of the Kurosaki Clinic sign, after Orihime went back inside to put Kazui to bed.

Ichigo dropped his head back against the couch cushion as he remembered what she’d asked him.

_“This afternoon, back in the hallway. What happened to you just before we felt Yhwach?”_

_Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “I think I was just reacting to his reiatsu. Don’t worry about it, midget. You said you’d report it to the Gotei. They’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”_

_The nickname earned Ichigo a kick in the shin, and he grumbled in pain even as Rukia’s expression turned serious. “Are you sure it was that? I didn’t feel his reiatsu until…afterwards.”_

_“Yeah. Don’t worry, Rukia. Really.” Ichigo pursed his lips, looking toward Renji and Ichika, who were growing smaller as they walked back toward Urahara’s place. “How old’s Ichika, anyway?”_

_Rukia’s lashes lowered to hide her eyes, and her lips tightened briefly before she looked up at him again. “She’s eight years old now, and a new shinigami apprentice.”_

_Ichigo frowned and his eyebrows scrunched in. “Only eight? She’s tall for her age, then.”_

_“Yes, she is.” The words were flat, and Ichigo sensed he’d struck a nerve although he couldn’t imagine how or what he’d said. “I’d better catch up to them. See you later, Ichigo.”_

_Their eyes met one more time, and Ichigo smiled down at her softly. “Later, Rukia. Thanks for coming today.”_

Ichigo drained his glass of water and left it on the coffee table. _Yhwach is dead_ , he reminded himself again, and had been for years, the earlier burst of reiatsu notwithstanding. And even if he hadn’t been – what was Ichigo supposed to do? He hadn’t raised a weapon to anyone, or anything, in seven years. Not since the first time his badge beeped after Orihime gave birth to Kazui and she – exhausted by the ordeal and from Kazui’s nightly screaming – had begged him not to go.

A chill ran down Ichigo’s spine despite the summer heat, but he stretched back out on the couch to try and sleep for a few more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic falls into a sort of gray area in that there is a fair amount of "not technically adultery", but this work does depict dysfunctional relationships and the breakdown of canon relationships. If content of that nature would be upsetting to you, please do not read further.


	2. Clearing Out the Past I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia returns to Soul Society.

Renji was waiting for her, Ichika still draped over his shoulder, when Rukia stepped through the Senkaimon. She adjusted the haori she wore; it felt odd to have the extra fabric draped over her when she’d been wearing just the shihakusho for so long. It didn’t help that it was too large: for all that she’d had her measurements taken for the garment, the sleeves were enormous and the shoulders too big.

“I’ll take Ichika back to the manor,” Rukia said. “Nii-sama is expecting me.”

Renji’s lips flattened. “I can put her to bed. Not like I got to see her much this past year.”

“The assignment in Sapporo was important,” she reminded him. “And it makes more sense if I take her, since I have business at the manor.”

Renji rolled his eyes and adjusted his hold on the sleeping child. “The Sapporo assignment was eight months long and boring as shit. An unseated division member could have done it standing on their head. Don’t know why Captain had to send me,” he grumbled.

“Don’t swear in front of Ichika.”

“She’s _asleep_ , it’s not like she can hear us.” Renji pushed past her and disappeared into _shunpo_ before she could say anything else.

Rukia just shook her head and followed. Her haori billowed as she moved, covering the distance to the manor in a few minutes. Renji beat her there thanks to his head start, and she saw him disappear down the hallway toward Ichika’s room. A passing servant told her that Byakuya was still in the office he used at the manor, and Rukia strolled along the long-familiar wooden pathways.

_“Ichigo is a doctor now!” Orihime exclaimed proudly, as Ichigo sipped his beer. “Kazui and I are so proud, he finally completed his certifications and took over Isshin’s clinic.”_

_Rukia’s eyes darted to him. “Congratulations, Ichigo. That’s quite an accomplishment.”_

_His lips twitched up, but the smile didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks. Didn’t feel right to let Tousan’s clinic to keep sitting empty.”_

_“Yes, and now that his residency is complete and Ichigo is working in the clinic, he’s home so much more and we’ll have more time together.” Orihime beamed._

_Ichigo took another sip of his beer. His eyes met Rukia’s briefly and one of them glinted yellow before returning so quickly to normal that she thought it must be a trick of the light._

She shook herself and covered the rest of the distance to Byakuya’s office with a quicker pace. He’d been tired, obviously – from what Rukia understood of doctors in the World of the Living, they completed many years of training to be able to practice medicine and treat people. It sounded like a lot of work, and _of course Ichigo would be tired if he’d just finished his training_ , she thought.

Though it did strike her as odd that he didn’t seem to share Orihime’s enthusiasm.

The doors to Byakuya’s office were partially open and Rukia rapped lightly on the wood frame before slipping through.

“Ah. Rukia,” Byakuya greeted as she bowed. “I understand you made a trip to the World of the Living.”

She blinked and knelt in _seiza_ on the other side of his desk. “Yes. Renji and I took Ichika to the Kurosaki’s to see Chad’s fight on television. It was nice to see everyone after so long.”

Byakuya’s eyes flicked to hers and he let out a soft _hn_ under his breath. “I thought he didn’t want to fight if he didn’t have to.”

“Ah – I suppose something must have changed,” Rukia said, and frowned. “None of Ichigo’s other guests seemed to question it, so I suppose he must have changed his mind.”

“Hn.”

“Ichigo is a doctor now, and he has a son,” she reported. “He’s a little younger than Ichika, and they seemed to enjoy themselves together.”

Byakuya acknowledged her words with a nod, although there was something in his expression – a twitch of his lips, the way his eyes glanced away – that seemed uneasy. It was so unlike him that Rukia asked, “Are you well, Nii-sama?”

He straightened up. “I wanted to congratulate you privately on your promotion. I am very proud of you,” he said quietly.

Rukia’s cheeks flushed pink and she bowed her head. “Thank you, Nii-sama. I will do my best to live up to the expectations of the Gotei and of the clan.”

That strange look was in his eyes again, but Byakuya nodded again. “You are up to the challenge, I am sure. You have done well as acting taicho for your division.”

“Aa. I am looking forward to being able to formally appoint officers and take care of a number of administrative matters that could not take place without a taicho,” Rukia commented. “The war was hard on my division.”

“Do you have a fukutaicho in mind?”

Rukia shook her head. “Kotetsu might have been a good fit, but Kotetsu Taicho appointed her before I could,” she said seriously. “Kotsubaki has been a good Third Seat, but he has already told me that he does not feel ready for further responsibility.”

Byakuya’s eyebrow quirked up at that. “I see. Are there other seated officers who seem ready for the role?” When Rukia shook her head again, he said, “You may have to look outside of your division, then. Perhaps an officer from one of the other divisions would be a good fit.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “I will speak to the other taicho.”

“I am sorry that I cannot offer you Abarai,” Byakuya commented, but he was looking at her carefully. “He has become quite indispensable to me.”

Rukia shook her head. “There is no need to apologize, Nii-sama. He is…not the right fit for the Thirteenth Division.” And the very idea of having Renji near her all the time, hovering… Rukia shook herself. “I will be able to find a fukutaicho from amongst the officers of the other squads. There must be a number of talented shinigami who are nearly ready for a promotion.”

Her brother seemed to relax minutely. “Very well. Will you have tea with me before you return to your division barracks?”

She smiled. “Yes, I’d like that.”

The tea Byakuya’s servants gave them was an herbal tisane without the energizing qualities of the green tea that Rukia normally enjoyed, and so her eyes were heavy as she stopped by Ichika’s room on her way back to the barracks. Renji was long gone and her daughter was sleeping curled up on her futon. The asauchi she called her own was sitting in a stand against one wall. There was an open book near the futon and Rukia picked it up, marking the place and setting it on the short bookshelf next to the zanpakutō stand.

“I don’t know why I agreed to your becoming an apprentice so early,” Rukia whispered as she watched her daughter’s shoulder and side rise and fall beneath a lightly blanket. _But you’re already several times as powerful as I was at your age._ She stepped back outside, slid the shoji door shut silently and slipped away, stepping into _shunpo_ with a thought and returning to the division barracks.

The barracks were quiet when she entered them and walked into the fukutaicho’s quarters. There hadn’t been time to move her belongings into the larger taicho’s rooms before she needed to be in the World of the Living. “Ukitake’s old quarters still need to be cleaned out,” Rukia mumbled to herself as she set Sode no Shirayuki in her stand and hung up her haori. The shihakusho came next, piled into a laundry basket, and she changed into a plain sleeping yukata.

 _It will wait until morning_ , she thought as she lay down on her futon and pulled a thin blanket over herself. After an hour of tossing and turning, however, Rukia rose from her futon again and pulled Sode no Shirayuki from her rack. Settling herself, she sat _jinzen_ and breathed slowly, focusing on dropping into the state where she could reach her inner world. But that would not come either, and her zanpakutō was silent.

She set the zanpakutō back in the stand and slid a pair of slippers on, then stepped from her quarters. The taicho’s quarters were just next door, and Rukia slid the shoji screen open with a deep breath before sending in a ball of Kido to light the space.

It was just as she’d remembered it, but with a thick layer of dust over everything Ukitake had owned. Even so many years after his death it felt wrong to touch the things that belonged to him, but as the blue light glowed above her Rukia slowly worked her way through the old shihakusho and other clothes, through the many things he’d collected over the years.

She hadn’t realized just how much of a collector Ukitake was, and when dawn crept into the room through a window on the far wall, she still wasn’t done. But there was a neat pile of uniforms other clothes, as well as his old haori to dispose of, and several items that she thought Kyōraku Soutaicho might want. She wasn’t sure what to do with his nicer kimonos, but they were also folded in a neat pile.

“Taicho?” Sentarō’s voice startled Rukia, and she nearly dropped the carved fan in her hand.

“Ah, good morning Sentarō,” she greeted.

The dark-haired man was flushed red as he looked at her, and Rukia glanced down, realizing she was still in her yukata, which had acquired a number of thick, gray smudges of dust. “Ah – some of the other officers said they heard noises in here. Thought it might be a ghost.” When Rukia raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “Do you need help?”

“If you could take care of getting rid of this pile,” Rukia pointed to the old uniforms. “That would be a great help.”

Sentarō’s eyes were a little red-rimmed as he picked them up. “Guess it’s past time this got cleaned up,” he mumbled. “What with you being the new Taicho and all.”

Rukia managed a smile at him, but she felt a suspicion of tears prickle behind her eyes as well. “We will continue to honor Ukitake-sama,” she assured him.

He nodded shortly and turned back toward the door.

“Oh, Sentarō, I’ll need someone to run a box over to the First Division later. I think Kyōraku Soutaicho would like some of Ukitake-sama’s things as well. Please have the furniture removed and given away. And once this room is empty, I’ll need it scrubbed clean. The amount of dust is…impressive.”

Sentarō bowed slightly and hurried away.

Rukia returned to her quarters and cleaned herself up, then changed into clean shihakusho and her too-large haori. She hadn’t slept, and she knew she would pay for it later, but it felt cleansing to finally take care of a task that she’d been putting off for a decade.

The day passed slowly as Rukia tackled the piles of paperwork on her new desk. Though as acting taicho she’d been able to sign off on certain orders, there was some work that had been waiting for her appointment, and Rukia tackled that first, signing off on orders to authorize the selection of new shinigami from the academy to replenish the greatly diminished ranks of the Thirteenth.

“Taicho, message for you from Kurotsuchi Taicho,” Sentarō announced around noon. “He wants a report on your experience in the World of the Living yesterday. Said something about strange reiatsu readings.”

Rukia bit her lip. “I see. Thank you, Sentarō. Is the messenger awaiting a response?” When her Third Seat shook his head, she breathed out slowly. “I’ll add it to my list,” she said, and waved a hand in dismissal.

There were a number of reports on her desk that she needed to read and approve, and Rukia worked her way through those as well. “I need a fukutaicho,” she mumbled after a time. Though she’d made good progress through a dozen reports from the Thirteenth Division shinigami stationed in Karakura, there was still an enormous pile on the desk typically reserved for the fukutaicho – and the pile just kept growing larger.

The sun moved across the sky and had long since set when Sentarō knocked on the office door again. “Taicho, message from Kuchiki Taicho. He asked if you are still planning to join him for dinner.” Rukia looked up and Sentarō frowned at her. “He said you’re a little late.”

“Ah.” Rukia glanced out the window and then at the clock on her desk. “More than a little. Please send a message that I’ll be there momentarily.”

He nodded, but there was an expression of concern on his face as he left. Rukia stood and stretched, feeling vertebrae shifting and popping. She returned to her quarters and changed quickly into a dark blue kimono and a patterned obi. She slipped into geta and hurried out of the barracks still tying her obijime and stepped into _shunpo_. She stifled a jaw-cracking yawn on the way.

Byakuya and Ichika were waiting for her when she stepped into the dining room, leaving her geta at the door, and she bowed in greeting. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologized.

Ichika jumped up to greet her with a hug, and Rukia’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. She flushed a dull red but allowed Ichika to pull her to the table.

“I am sure your day was busy,” Byakuya said, and Rukia bowed her head slightly.

“Ah, yes. There is quite a lot of paperwork as a new division leader,” she admitted with a little laugh. “How was your day with your tutor, Ichika?” she asked as servants, at a silent and near-invisible gesture from Byakuya, began to carry platters into the room.

“ _Boring_. Why do I have to learn math? Tousan says it’s useless,” Ichika complained.

Rukia frowned. “Your Tousan is wrong,” she said as she served her daughter a selection of vegetables and a pile of rice alongside her bowl of soup. “Math is very valuable if you want to become an officer someday. I have to use math all of the time to run my division.”

Ichika made a face, but at Byakuya’s gesture they all three said _itadakimasu_ and began to eat. “I guess. I like reading better. Nagata-sensei let me read some books from the World of the Living and they were really great.”

“Hn.” Byakuya looked at Rukia. “What sort of books?”

“He called it _literature_. Said I’d understand it better when I’m older, but we’re reading something called _Twelfth Night_. It’s really good!”

“Shakespeare,” Rukia murmured, and hid a yawn behind the sleeve of her kimono. “Well, I’m glad you are enjoying it, Ichika,” she said.

By the time they finished dinner Rukia was stifling a yawn every few minutes. “Will you read me a story before bedtime, Kaasan?” Ichika requested, and Rukia smiled.

“Of course. Thank you for the meal, Nii-sama,” she said, and bowed to him.

Byakuya just nodded.

Rukia followed Ichika through the courtyard back to her room, and waited while her daughter picked a book from her shelf. “Ah, this isn’t the book you were reading yesterday, was it?” Rukia asked. It was thicker than the one she’d put away the previous night.

“No, that’s the book I’m reading with Tousan,” Ichika explained as she changed into her sleeping yukata and unrolled her futon. Rukia settled next to her on the floor.

“Hn. Very well,” she murmured, and opened the book to the first page. Though Ichika could read on her own she still enjoyed being read to, but Rukia’s increasingly frequent yawns made the process more difficult than usual.

“Kaasan, you need to _sleep_ ,” Ichika finally said when Rukia had taken several minutes to get through one page because she couldn’t stop yawning. Her daughter took the book from her hands before Rukia could protest.

“Hmn, yes, I’m sorry Ichika. It’s been a long day,” Rukia apologized and kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Time for bed for you, then.”

Ichika scrambled onto her futon and pulled her blanket up. “Goodnight,” she said, as Rukia kissed her forehead again and doused the lamp.

“Goodnight, Ichika.”

It was a struggle just to get back to the barracks, and Rukia fell into her bed fully clothed. But her sleep was restless and filled with vivid dreams of running through a blizzard while pursued by someone with yellow eyes and the dark reiatsu she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel again.


	3. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's nightmares affect him in the waking world.

“Ishi-san, are you well?” Ichigo’s patient, an elderly woman with a fractured wrist, asked.

Ichigo swallowed down a yawn and curved his lips, eyes shutting. “I apologize, Higashi-san. I didn’t sleep well last night.” He finished wrapping her wrist and rolled on a low, padded stool to his computer. “Your x-ray is concerning, so I’ve splinted your wrist but I’m going to refer you to a surgeon to assess whether you need a reconstructive procedure.”

Higashi pursed her lips and glanced down at her splinted and bandaged wrist. “What happens if I don’t need surgery?”

“If you don’t need surgery, then you’ll wear a more permanent cast for several weeks and then a brace.” Ichigo quickly typed notes into the recordkeeping system. “Until you see the surgeon, keep your wrist as still as possible and don’t get the splint wet. Do you have any other questions?”

“No, Ishi-sama. Thank you.”

Ichigo stood and bowed briefly to the elderly woman. “Come out front when you’re ready and Yuzu will help you make an appointment with the surgeon,” he instructed.

He barely waited until the door closed behind him before leaning back against the wall and letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. There had been a steady stream of patients in the clinic over the past few days, but no serious emergencies. But it wasn’t his work that had him exhausted: it was his new nighttime habit.

During the day, everything was normal. Orihime took Kazui to school and then went to her part-time job at the bakery, where she had started working once Kazui was settled in school full-time. Ichigo dressed and, with Yuzu and Karin, opened the clinic to patients.

Nights were a different matter altogether. Following his initial nightmare after Rukia and Renji’s visit, Ichigo had disturbing dreams every night. He’d taken to sleeping in the clinic to avoid waking up his family after he’d roused the entire household screaming bloody murder from the couch two nights in a row. The nightmares only grew in intensity each night, and Ichigo found himself struggling to stay awake during the day due to the lack of restful sleep.

_He pushed himself to move faster, even in shunpo. Rukia was just over the next rise, doing battle with a hollow. He could sense her reiatsu, which rose and fell as she fought. He could follow the red string that bound them to one another. Ichigo came to a halt, his coat flying around him, as he saw her: using Sode no Shirayuki’s second dance to blast not one but three hollows with ice. She was cornered._

**_Save the Queen!_** _Zangetsu roared within him, and Ichigo sprang into action again. He darted behind Rukia and with her next call of “Tsugi no mai: hakuren!” Ichigo roared “Getsuga tensh_ _ō!”_ _Their combined attacks eradicated all three hollows with one blow, and Ichigo landed beside Rukia as they disintegrated._

_“I could have handled them,” Rukia chided as she sheathed her zanpakutō._

_Ichigo allowed himself to drop out of bankai and swung his sword onto his back. “Che. Just say thank you for the assist, midget. ‘Sides, Zangetsu made it sound worse than it was.”_

_Rukia rolled her eyes but softened at the mention of Zangetsu. “He’s even more protective than you are.”_

_Ichigo shrugged. “He wants to protect his queen.” He leaned down, and their lips met in a long kiss. He swore Zangetsu was actually purring._

_Ichigo stood in his living room, zanpakuto in hand and his old vizard mask covering his face. Orihime was sprawled on the couch before him, her eyes blank and one arm draped over her stomach, body covered in blood from a massive hole in her chest. Kazui was face down midway between the kitchen and the dining area, blood pooling beneath him. The house stank of blood and death. Ichigo looked around in horror for evidence of who had slaughtered his family, zanpakutō held in a defensive position. Even as he pulled his mask from his face, he heard a cackle from beside him._

_It was Zangetsu, alabaster skin clad in a white shihakusho and white hair falling into his face. His yellow eyes scanned the dead bodies and he grinned at Ichigo, his black tongue coming out to lick his lips. **“That’s a…permanent way to deal with an obstacle. Mind if I eat ‘em? I’m hungry, and you never let me out to play anymore.”**_

_Ichigo backed away in horror. “I did this? But…but I would **never**. Kazui is my son! Orihime is…is…!”_

_Zangetsu cackled again. **“Sure, sure. Sometimes obstacles come in cute packages, King.”**_

_“Kazui wasn’t an obstacle!” Ichigo shouted._

_The hollow just smirked. **“Just barriers to the Queen. You should have fought harder. Instead you’ve been fucking around doing what for ten years? It hasn’t fucking stopped raining since you let the Queen go.”**_

“Ichigo!” The high-pitched voice woke him.

He struggled to open his eyes, and slowly Yuzu’s worried face came into focus. “Huh?”

“You were screaming so loudly that I heard you upstairs. What’s going on? Why are you down _here_?” Yuzu demanded. Her light brown hair stuck up in various places and she ran a hand through it, sending it into further disarray.

Ichigo sat up and scrubbed his face. That one had felt _real_. “Sorry for waking you, Yuzu. Just a bad dream about the war,” he lied, and yawned.

“Oh, Ichigo,” she sighed. “I’ll make you some tea.” Yuzu left the clinic room, leaving Ichigo to sit on the bed, head buried in his hands. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked in a low growl and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. _I’d never hurt Kazui. Why is Zangetsu in my dreams after so long?_

“Here, it’s chamomile.” Ichigo took his hands from his face and reached out for the mug Yuzu offered.

“Thanks, Yuzu. Did I wake anyone else up?” The grassy, herbal odor of the tea turned his stomach, but Ichigo took a few sips.

“No. Karin and Kazui are on the opposite side of the house and Orihime was still snuffling when I came downstairs.”

“Snuffling?” Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

“She snuffles in her sleep, haven’t you noticed?” Yuzu asked. “I’m going back to bed. Try and get some sleep, Ichi-nii.” She left the room with a little wave, leaving Ichigo with his tea.

He wondered when Orihime had started snuffling in her sleep. Ichigo finished his tea and laid down, but it was a long time before he was able to sleep again.

The next morning, he joined his family at the breakfast table, dragging himself in from the clinic.

“Ichigo! You look exhausted,” Orihime’s voice took on a concerned tone as she served Kazui his breakfast of rice, a piece of seared fish, and a fried egg.

“Ichi-nii said he was having nightmares,” Yuzu tattled as she added furikake to her egg. “He woke me up.”

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose and dug in the freezer for the ground coffee, then in the cabinet for a filter. “Anyone else want coffee?” he asked.

“Me.” Karin sat down at the table and ruffled Kazui’s hair. “You okay Ichi-nii?”

He glanced at Yuzu and Orihime, who shook their heads, and poured in enough water for two people. He added several tablespoons of coffee. “I’m fine,” he said, and focused on pulling mugs from the cabinet.

Karin and Yuzu ate quickly before hurrying back upstairs to dress for work, while Ichigo added rice and an egg to his bowl. The coffee he drank black, and nearly burned his tongue on the first sip.

“Yuzu said it’s going to be a busy day in the clinic,” Orihime commented as she sat at the table and picked up her chopsticks.

Ichigo shrugged and glanced at Kazui. “Yeah, probably.”

The young boy ate the last of his rice and set his chopsticks down. “Kaasan, can I be excused?”

Orihime turned a brilliant smile on him. “Of course, Kazui. Go get ready and I’ll walk you to school.” She returned her attention to Ichigo and her expression sobered. “Yuzu said you’re having nightmares.”

“Yeah.” Ichigo scooped another pile of rice into his mouth and followed it with a long sip of coffee. He sliced into the runny yolk at the center of his egg and let it run down into the rice before taking another mouthful.

“Ichigo…”

He stared down at his rice. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and kept eating.

“Aa—” Orihime frowned and began to eat her own breakfast.

Ichigo finished his a few minutes later and bolted the last of his coffee. He rinsed his dishes and set them in the dishwasher. “I’ll be in the clinic,” he said quietly, and left the kitchen before Orihime could say anything else.

He jerked awake in his office as Karin knocked on the door, eyes wild until he realized where he was. “Karin,” he said, and rubbed a hand over his face. The room around him was tiny: it was just a space for completing paperwork. The desk was covered in that paperwork, which he _should_ have completed during his lunch break. His lunch sat barely touched on the corner of the desk furthest from him.

“We have four patients in the waiting room and one in the exam room,” his sister told him. She wore a pale blue uniform, including a hat that kept her hair out of the way, and the look in her eyes was concerned. “We’re running about an hour behind, I didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep in here. What’s _wrong_ , Ichi-nii? Yuzu said it was something about the war. You didn’t eat, either.”

Ichigo yawned and stood. He pulled his white coat back on and shook his head. “I’ll be fine, Karin,” he said, though his hands were shaking slightly. “I should have had more coffee – I guess the afternoon slump hit me too hard,” he lied. “I’ll see the patient in the exam room. Is there anyone in the waiting room whom you or Yuzu could treat?”

Karin shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll make you a coffee,” she offered, and Ichigo followed her from the office. She looked back at him, eyes still concerned, but hurried into the waiting and reception area.

Thanks, Karin,” he said, and knocked on the door to the exam room.

“Hashi-san? I’m Doctor Kurosaki. I’m sorry for the long delay,” he said as the door shut behind him.

The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of patients. Ichigo gulped down the coffee Karin made for him in between exams and referred another of his patients to a surgeon.

Orihime popped into the clinic late in the afternoon to remind the three siblings that dinner would be in a few hours. “Ah! Ichigo, I brought a snack for you,” she announced as he stepped out of the exam room. She pressed something wrapped in a napkin into his hand.

“Thanks, Orihime,” he mumbled. “Don’t keep dinner waiting on me, I have paperwork to catch up on.”

“Oh – but we always eat dinner together,” she said cheerfully, and her big gray eyes looked into his.

Ichigo glanced down the hall, where three more patients were waiting, according to Karin. “Sorry. It’s time-sensitive.”

“Well of course if it’s important. I’ll keep a plate warm for you.”

“Thanks.” He was still looking away, but Orihime leaned up, cheek raised toward him. Ichigo dutifully pecked it lightly before disappearing into his office again. He shut the door and his head fell to the desk. Ichigo unwrapped the napkin. The snack inside was unidentifiable and Ichigo made a face. He re-wrapped it and tipped the garbage bin beneath his desk so that when he put the snack inside it slid down the side slowly instead of dropping, so that Orihime wouldn’t hear it fall if she was still waiting outside his door. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings – but he wasn’t going to eat whatever _that_ was.

Ichigo checked the records of his next patient on his computer and stepped back outside; Orihime was gone and he breathed out slowly. Then he rolled his shoulders and walked into the exam room to see his next patient.

The last patient didn’t leave until the sun was beginning to set outside, and Yuzu closed down the clinic between yawns. Karin cleaned up the exam room while Ichigo sat in his office again, the door open a sliver, and typed up his notes from his last patient. There was a pile of paperwork, some of it several days late, waiting for him.

“Ichi-nii, don’t forget to eat dinner,” Yuzu called as she walked past the office to the door that separated the clinic from the house.

Ichigo mumbled under his breath and finished his notes, then turned toward the paperwork. Yuzu had completed all of the insurance forms, but they needed his sign off. He reviewed each one carefully, signing off on all but one. The last one he put a sticky note on with a correction in kanji. There were clinic insurance forms as well – policies up for renewal to protect the clinic and to protect him if anything happened.

It was close to ten by the time he finished, and Ichigo closed the door of his office with a jaw-cracking yawn. He walked into the house; the television was on in the living room and it sounded like Orihime and his sisters were watching some kind of reality show, judging by the laughter coming from both them and the TV. He dragged himself into the kitchen; there was a note from Orihime telling him that his dinner was in the fridge; he guessed four hours was a long time to keep food warm.

Dinner thankfully turned out to be much more normal-looking than Orihime’s snack efforts, and Ichigo heated it up quietly and poured himself a drink. He set his plate of warmed rice, vegetables, and tonkatsu on the table and found a pair of chopsticks in the drawer, then sat down to eat.

“Oh! Ichigo, I’m glad you’re finally eating,” Orihime said from the doorway. “You should have taken a break _hours_ ago, couldn’t the paperwork have waited?” she asked sweetly.

Ichigo let out a faint grunt and took a sip of his water before answering. “I wanted it done.” He picked at the pile of vegetables on his plate and selected a carrot, eating that. The sauce was far too salty, but with her looking at him he couldn’t scrape the sauce off.

“Kazui got an “A” on his kanji test today,” Orihime reported as she filled a glass with water and sat down across from him.

“That’s great,” Ichigo said, and glanced up. “I’ll congratulate him in the morning – I know he’s in bed already.”

“Hn. And I had a good day at the bakery. My boss _loves_ my sweet bean buns!”

Ichigo hid his expression behind his napkin. He wondered, briefly, if Rangiku had become her boss when he wasn’t paying attention. The thought of one of the shinigami he hadn’t seen in years sent a pang through him – and so did the guilt of the uncharitable thought.

“Are you alright, Ichigo?” Her high voice startled him, and Ichigo coughed.

“Yeah. Something caught in my throat,” he said, and grabbed for his water glass again.

“Hmn. Well, he really likes them, and said we can start selling them next week! Isn’t that great? It’s the first recipe that my boss has said is good enough to sell.”

“Yeah, that’s great, Orihime,” Ichigo mumbled and scooped more rice into his mouth. The rice was a little salty too, and briefly he wondered if he needed to talk to her about the dangers of high blood pressure.

“I’m going to try to convince him to sell my special _bread_ , next. I think everyone will love it. I sent some home with Tatsuki yesterday when she stopped for a visit. I should give some to Ishida-kun as well. He’s always so kind with his feedback,” Orihime chattered.

Ichigo hummed his agreement and kept eating. His stomach churned, suddenly, and he took another gulp of water. Pain shot through his head just as suddenly, settling into a spike of agony behind his left eye.

“Oh, we should invite Ishida-kun over for dinner next week! Especially since he wasn’t able to join the party the other day. We can invite Tatsuki and I can cook something special, like a pot pie. Kazui loves it, and I can…”

The churning in Ichigo’s stomach grew stronger and sweat beaded at his temples. He swallowed convulsively and his hand tightened. A hairline crack formed in the glass as he watched, and water seeped out in droplets. His stomach roiled and Ichigo managed a, “Sorry,” before he lurched from his chair and hurried from the room.

“Ichigo!” drifted into the air behind him, and the scrape of a chair and footsteps followed.

The closest bathroom was in the clinic, and he barely managed to get the door shut behind him before he heaved and vomited his dinner into the toilet. His eyes watered and he shook violently as he flushed the mess away. Ichigo grabbed onto the sink with shaking hands and turned the faucet on, scooping cold water into his mouth and spitting to rinse his mouth of the acrid taste.

“Ichigo? Are you alright?”

Her voice grated in his head and Ichigo spit into the sink again as he looked up into the mirror above the sink and recoiled. The sclera of his left eye was black and the iris a thin ring of yellow. “I’ll be fine,” he managed to call in reply. The pain was still throbbing behind his eye and he waited, clinging to the cold, white porcelain of the sink.

His left eye _winked_ at him before returning to normal, and Ichigo sagged, body still shaking. He washed his hands and wiped off his mouth before opening the door to the bathroom.

Orihime was still standing there, a worried expression on her face. “What happened?” she asked, and her soft, high-pitched voice made the pain in his eye worse.

“Sudden migraine,” he mumbled, and backed away from her. “I need – I need to go lie down. I have something for it in the clinic.” She followed him as he walked to the storage room of the clinic and began to dig through the medication samples. There was a two-pack of sumatriptan in a foil sleeve with an expiration date only a month out, and he grabbed that.

“Let me help you to bed then,” Orihime said cheerily, and Ichigo turned suddenly. She was less than a meter away from him and he backed up a step.

“No – better down here,” he mumbled again.

“But Ichigo…”

“Please, just _go_ ,” he hissed at her, and she backed away with a hurt look in her eyes. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty – his head throbbed too much. He tore open the medication packet and swallowed the two pills dry, swallowing several times to get them down. When he left the storage room the door between the clinic and the house was shut, and Ichigo stumbled to the bed he’d been using for the past few nights. He shut the lights off and fell onto it, eyes shut against the sliver of light coming from around the curtains.

His dreams were full of Zangetsu, staring at him from a mirror.

* * *

The seventh night after Rukia’s visit, Ichigo hunkered down in the clinic again. His body shook with fatigue, and he finally broke down and took one of the milder sedatives that he kept on hand at the clinic. In Ichigo’s weakened state he passed out in minutes.

Instead of a nightmare, Ichigo fell into his inner world, landing with a splash in freezing cold water and immediately sinking several meters underneath the surface. He inhaled water in his shock but managed to orient himself and swim up to the surface. It was pouring rain – obviously the source of the water – and Ichigo could see that the water was deep enough to leave only a few meters of most of the skyscrapers above the surface. He swam to one and climbed up, landing on the roof. He coughed up the water he’d inhaled, head bowed against the rain.

“What the hell?” he muttered. “I took a pill, this shouldn’t be happening.”

**“Like a pill could keep me out, King,”** Zangetsu scoffed. He looked just as he had a decade ago: like an inversion of Ichigo himself, with pure white skin, black sclera, and bright yellow irises. **“We’re overdue for a chat. Or did you think I’d just go to sleep forever when you curled up and stopped fighting?”**

Ichigo had backed into a defensive stance at Zangetsu’s appearance; even after training with the Zero Division and having his zanpakutō re-forged, he knew the hollow wasn’t entirely tamed. “I…have a family,” he mumbled. “I couldn’t run around like the kid I used to be.”

Zangetsu snorted. **“The Queen still fights even though she has a family. Even if it’s with the baboon. So what’s your excuse, King?”**

The former substitute Shinigami looked away and focused instead on the endless expanse of his inner world. “Being a shinigami is Rukia’s job. I was just a substitute.” He looked up at the dark gray sky. “It’s been raining here a long time, huh?”

Those words were met with a snarl. **“I told ya, it hasn’t stopped fucking raining since ya let the Queen go.”**

Ichigo stared at him. “I thought that was just a dream.”

**“The part where ya killed your wife and that kid was,”** Zangetsu acknowledged. **“Obviously. Never had it in ya to kill weaklings.”**

Ichigo thought for a second that he should defend Orihime – but Zangetsu wasn’t…entirely wrong about her. “So why am I here, then?” he asked.

**“I’m fuckin’ tired of all this rain,”** Zangetsu snarled. **“Fuckin’ tired of you livin’ like some pansy weakling and hoping I’ll just stay asleep. So it’s the horse’s turn now.”**

Ichigo blinked and reached behind his back for his zanpakutō – only to find it wasn’t there. “What the hell? I thought we settled this ten years ago. You can’t just have my body!”

Zangetsu just snickered. **“Don’t worry, King. You’ll thank me when I bring back our Queen.”**

Ichigo’s jaw dropped, and he leapt at Zangetsu. “Don’t you _dare_ hurt Rukia, you bastard!” Weaponless, he swung at the hollow with a fist and was easily dodged.

**“Aren’t ya _listening_ , idiot? Rukia’s the _Queen_.”** The hollow pointed a finger and Ichigo found himself bound by a wave of invisible energy. **“Sit tight, King, while I go have some fun.”**

Ichigo watched helplessly as Zangetsu disappeared.


	4. Howl, Zangetsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having taken over Ichigo's body, Zangetsu makes his way towards his goal: Soul Society, and Rukia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a fair amount of approximately canon-typical violence in this chapter.

Zangetsu knew that he needed to get out of Ichigo’s body, and that required the old badge. He left the clinic in silence and slunk into the house, then up the stairs. The rest of Ichigo’s family was asleep: the twin girls were in their rooms, and the kid was in Ichigo’s old room. Zangetsu sniffed; the badge wasn’t likely to be in either of those. It had to be in the bedroom Ichigo _didn’t_ share with his wife.

The hollow snarled under his breath at that and walked down the hallway to the largest bedroom in the house. The woman had shut the door; Zangetsu opened it slowly and rolled his eyes when the hinges squeaked loudly.

“Is that you, Ichigo?” a sleepy voice asked from the darkness.

Zangetsu cursed silently. “Yeah,” he mumbled. Even stuck in Ichigo’s body his voice didn’t sound quite like the King’s. “Go back to sleep.”

“Aa – you haven’t come to bed in months, Ichigo.”

Orihime’s voice was soft and small in the darkness, and the pitch of it grated on Zangetsu the way it always had. He rolled his eyes again. But he didn’t _actually_ want to kill the woman.

“Nightmares,” he said gruffly. “Didn’t want to wake you.” He moved further into the bedroom and found the nightstand on the side of the bed where Ichigo slept. He pulled the drawer open and started to dig around.

Orihime sat up in bed and looked at him, hair swirling around her in the breeze from the air conditioner whirring above the window. “What are you looking for?”

Zangetsu raised his eyes to the ceiling and then looked at Orihime, who startled. His hand closed around the badge and he shoved it into his front pocket. “Go back to sleep,” he repeated.

“Your eyes…Ichigo your eyes look different tonight. And your voice is…strange.” Orihime shrank back from him when Zangetsu focused on her. 

Zangetsu snarled and shoved the drawer shut, eliciting a squeak from the woman. He stalked back to the door of the bedroom and pulled it shut behind him as he left, ignoring Orihime’s soft, plaintive call. “Lucky I didn’t rip your throat out,” he grumbled under his breath. The occupants of the other bedrooms were silent, and he walked back downstairs. He shoved Ichigo’s feet into his shoes and then left the Kurosaki home in silence.

Urahara’s place wasn’t a long walk, and Zangetsu actually enjoyed the quiet as he made his way toward his goal. It wasn’t too hot even for late July, and the sky was clear, giving him a view of the crescent moon overhead. Zangetsu took a deep breath with Ichigo’s lungs and smirked. It was a _perfect_ night.

He shoved the door of Urahara’s shop open and crept toward the part of the shop where Hat ‘n Clogs had built his Senkaimon. A noise startled him, and Zangetsu swore under his breath – he needed to be fast. Pulling the old substitute badge from his pocket, he shoved it against his chest and let Ichigo’s body crumple to the floor. Pulling his zanpakutō from his back, Zangetsu shoved it into the space between worlds and turned, opening the Senkaimon. He dashed inside and ran for it, his form a slender shape in the darkness.

Behind him, Yourichi crept into the shop in her feline form just as the doors closed once more. She sniffed at Ichigo’s body and immediately transformed into a human, yelling for Kisuke as she did so.

In the dangai, Zangetsu stopped dead as something _broke_ within his head, like a rubber band snapping when pulled too hard. But he shook it off and cackled, then dashed through the space between worlds. **“I’m coming for you, your highness,”** he yelled. **“And ain’t no monkey going to keep you from me this time.”**

In his head, Ichigo gave a howl of his own. _What the hell are you doing? Did you just break into Urahara’s shop? What the hell? Don’t you fucking touch Rukia! Or Ichika!_

Zangetsu cackled. **“Well so long as the baboon is fair game. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt the little princess.”** Then he leapt fearlessly from the Senkaimon’s exit into the twilight of Soul Society. He hovered for a moment in the air above the Seireitei and allowed his reiatsu to flare. His eyes gleamed gold and the white mask covering his face reflected the light of the moon – nearly full, here – that hung over the Soul Society.

 _I thought you called her the Queen,_ Ichigo thought at him inanely. Zangetsu just snorted and then closed his eyes to search out Rukia Kuchiki’s reiryoku. He flash-stepped closer to it, but stopped when something _else_ tickled against his senses. His eyes opened and he snarled: from his vantage point above the Fourth Division he could see the Sōkyoku Hill. And built into and above the cliff was the Sōkyoku itself. The wooden structure was much larger than the one that Ichigo had destroyed when he was fifteen. **“What the _fuck?”_ **he demanded. _They rebuilt it?!_ Ichigo shouted from within. His rage fueled Zangetsu’s, and reiatsu poured outwards, filled the air around them with anger.

Below, in the captain’s quarters of the Thirteenth Division, Rukia jolted in her sleep with a gasp. “Ichi---go?” she murmured as the spiritual pressure increased. She rolled over and fell deeper into dreams.

Outside, Zangetsu had been spotted by an unseated member of the Fourth Division who shrieked in fear and scrambled into the coordinated relief station. Within minutes the relief station spilled over with members running in and out of the barracks. Zangetsu spotted Ichigo’s old ally Hanatarō. **“He looks…tasty,”** he commented.

 _Don’t hurt him!_ Ichigo’s voice echoed, and Zangetsu sneered. **“Why not? He would make a good snack.”**

There was a moment of silence, and then Ichigo said quickly, _He helped me save the Queen when they were going to execute her._

**“Che, fine. I won’t eat him, then.”**

_“Attention. Unauthorized presence in the Seireitei above the Fourth Division. Assistance is requested immediately to detain the ryoka,”_ Lieutenant Kiyone Kotetsu’s voice rang out via Tenteikura. 

**“Sounds fun!”** Zangetsu exclaimed and pulled _his_ version of Ichigo’s zanpakutō from his back. The shorter of the two blades was an oversized black knife, flat and broad through its body. It resembled a trench knife, although it had a curved, wrapped hilt extending from the back of the blade. The other blade was much larger: well over a meter long, with a wide black blade reminiscent of a Khyber knife. The hilt alone was longer than Zangetsu’s forearm.

Ichigo took that moment, as Zangetsu waited for someone to battle, to try and seize control back from his hollow. Zangetsu’s howl filled the air as he jerked in place, snarling at the orange-haired man whose form he’d possessed. **“Not so fast, King,”** he snarled. **“We’re just getting to the fun part!”** White spread down over his neck and chest, and this time Zangetsu howled for the fun of it, the sound echoing across the Seireitei.

There were Shinigami gathering below him, and Zangetsu allowed himself to fall into the pack of them. They were fodder, clearly: unseated officers from who knew what division. He howled, the bone mask shaping into a grin, and though they approached with blades drawn, his blades swung out to scatter them all in one blow. **“Weaklings,”** he hissed in disgust, and as some of them tried to rise he swung again, slashing chests and kicking them away with black-sandaled feet. Blood sprayed into the air and Zangetsu raised his shorter blade to lick a trickle from the black metal.

There were more where they came from, and Zangetsu laid waste to them all, both blades swinging to shred flesh and destroy whomever they touched. Soon the grounds outside of the relief station were crowded with downed Shinigami, and Zangetsu leapt up from the bloodied soil to look for more exciting opponents. He ignored the Fourth Division pansies who were dragging the wounded away; Ichigo kept yelling in his head about _non-combatants_ and it was less annoying to let the man have his way.

“Kurosaki-san?” That was Lieutenant Matsumoto, her pale hair and pretty pink scarf fluttering as she landed, Haineko drawn. “Lay your zanpakutō down, please. I’d hate to have to hurt you.”

Zangetsu just howled his laughter and leapt at her, swinging his longer blade in an aggressive arc that Matsumoto barely blocked. They exchanged blows twice more before she stepped back and unsealed her zanpakutō with a call of “Growl, Haineko!”, sending a trail of fine ash into the air.

Zangetsu countered with a loud growl of **“Getsuga tensh** **ō!”** and sent flares of blue reiatsu at the ash, dispersing it and singeing Matsumoto’s uniform. He attacked a second time, using _sonido_ to vanish when the ash seemed to gather, and releasing another series of attacks that cut through the ash and destroyed the ground around Matsumoto even as she leapt away to avoid the blow.

Matsumoto panted, blood dripping down one arm where Zangetsu had caught her. “Kurosaki-san, you have to stop this,” she said calmly, even as Kira and Renji flash-stepped and landed on either side of her.

“ _Ichigo?!”_ That was Renji, who approached him mid-air with Zabimaru drawn but lowered. “What the hell?”

Zangetsu cackled. **“The baboon is here!”** he exclaimed, and sent another series of getsuga tenshō flares at the gathered lieutenants. Renji stared at him in shock as he dodged.

“Raise your head, Wabisuke!” Kira called.

The hollow just snorted. **“I remember that blade,”** he called. He leapt forward again and sent another series of blasts, following the three lieutenants as they used shunpo to avoid him. The wrapping around the hilt of his longer blade unraveled and Zangetsu sent it flying at Kira, slashing him across the chest – where he’d been grievously wounded during the war. The lieutenant grunted and flew backwards, blood staining his shihakusho. Zangetsu swung the blade from its wrapping again, sending Matsumoto flying as well. **“Your turn,”** he said, **“Queen-stealer.”**

Renji scowled. “What the hell does that mean?” Then he ordered, “Howl, Zabimaru!” The blade shifted and he sent it flying at Zangetsu, the segments extending with the shriek of metal on metal.

Zangetsu laughed, Ichigo’s voice overlaid with the higher, bad-radio-reception pitch of a hollow, and blocked Zabimaru with his shorter blade, then with the longer when the sword whipped back around. The third time, he _caught_ the end of Renji’s blade in both of his and used it to drag Renji through the air screaming. The Shinigami crashed into the barracks of the Eighth Division, sending more unseated reapers running as Renji’s landing created a large hole in the building.

When Zangetsu let go, he disappeared and quickly reappeared behind Renji, using his shorter blade to drag a deep gash across his back even as the flying blade of his opponent wrapped around them both. Zangetsu disappeared again and cackled as Renji’s blood spilt over the ground. **“Is that all, baboon?”** he challenged.

“Ichigo, what the _hell_ is going on?” Renji demanded in response. “I thought you got control of your monster years ago.”

The masked, yellow-eyed figure before him laughed again and howled, sending his longer blade chasing after Renji. **“King’s not here right now,”** was all he said, as the zanpakutō clashed against Zabimaru and then returned to his hand.

Zangetsu felt more than heard another presence behind him, and the blade swung that way as well, knocking the air out of Matsumoto with the flat of it and sending her flying. **“Stay down,”** he shouted in her direction.

“Bankai! Sōō Zabimaru!” Renji roared, and Zangetsu grinned.

 **“If that’s what you want,”** he purred, as the smoke cleared around Renji to reveal a smoother, gauntleted sword and a green cowl of fur that hung around his shoulders, ending along one side in a baboon’s arm. **“Bankai. Tensa Zangetsu.”**

His zanpakutō reformed into one massive blade and Zangetsu’s shihakusho blossomed into a long, black coat. The white bone covering his neck and chest extended further, covering his exposed abdomen as his hair grew longer and shaggier. He fired off a getsuga tenshō almost negligently, but one fingertip pointed and a red _cero_ exploded from it. The two blasts hit Renji almost simultaneously, shearing away the green fur. He leapt forward after Renji and swung his sword, hissing another attack and blocking Renji’s blade before shoving the point of his into the shoulder joint. Renji roared with pain and blood spread out beneath him.

Reiatsu flared in the air and Zangetsu sensed the approach of several captains – but he also sensed the reiatsu of the person he’d come for. **“Rukia…”** he purred, enraging the Shinigami at the end of his blade.

“ _Don’t you touch her!”_ Renji commanded, shoving the hollow away with his zanpakutō and forcing the blade away from his bloodied shoulder.

Zangetsu sneered at him. **“Idiot.”** His blade bit into Renji’s other shoulder joint, severing nerves and tendons and sending more dark blood spraying into the night. Then he fired off a second _cero_ and left Renji to collapse in a pool of his own blood as he leapt away, searching for Rukia.

As the lieutenants battled and reiatsu hostile and familiar filled the air, Rukia jolted awake, breathing hard. “Ichigo!” she repeated in a scream. The familiar reiatsu was darker than usual, and with her next breath Rukia bolted from the bed. _Not Ichigo – his hollow? But it’s –_

Automatically she threw her nightclothes onto the empty bed behind her and changed into her shihakusho. She strapped Sode no Shirayuki to her side and threw her new haori on top, then rushed from her quarters into the garden just outside. Even at this distance several of the unseated members of her division were having trouble standing. “Why did no one wake me?” she demanded, and then ignored the sudden babbling of her third seat, who’d approached as she stood in the garden. “Sentarō, put all seated members of the division on alert.”

Rukia flash-stepped out of her division and toward the source of the flaring reiatsu. It took only a few minutes to arrive at the Fourth Division, where a scene of devastation awaited her. Matsumoto and Kira were both being carried away by members of the Fourth Division. She felt Renji’s presence, off toward the Eighth Division – weakened but there. Resolutely, she turned away. The Fourth would have to help him. She grabbed Hanatarō as he ran by her and sent him in that direction. He was a third seat; he’d be able to help.

Quickly, she sought out Ichigo – Zangetsu – and kept her hand on the hilt of Sode no Shirayuki. She flash-stepped and followed the dark, strong reiryoku – and for just a second, as she had a week ago, Rukia saw a red thread tangled around her and leading away. It led toward Ichigo.

 **“Rukia,”** Zangetsu purred when she found him. He was high above the Seireitei. His clothing had taken a few slashes, but he looked almost totally unharmed – except for being covered in the bone-white skin of a hollow.

“Ichigo,” Rukia shouted. “You have to fight him, Ichigo. I know you wouldn’t do this!”

The hollow laughed, and beckoned Rukia closer. **“I’m here to save you, Rukia.”** The words echoed those that Ichigo had used so many years ago when he’d taken on the entirety of Soul Society and faced down a soul-destroying blade to rescue her.

“Fool, I’m not in any danger,” Rukia retorted. “Except from you.”

Zangetsu howled, and his reiatsu spiraled into the sky before pushing back down, shoving away the captains who were starting to gather below. **“Never,”** he hissed. **“You are the _Queen_.”**

Rukia took a step back, eyes widening. “What – what do you mean?” she asked. “I am the Captain of the Thirteenth Division. There are no _queens_ here.”

 **“You abandoned the King,”** Zangetsu hissed instead. **“Why? Why did you all abandon the King? Why did you keep the princess from him?”**

The petite captain’s hand fell to her blade and drew it, holding it before her in a defensive stance. But Zangetsu looked _offended_ instead of aggressive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said calmly.

Zangetsu flickered out of being and reappeared next to her, one hand – still Ichigo’s hand, he wasn’t fully a hollow yet – on her wrist. **“You married the _baboon_. After all you shared. After your time in the _royal realm_ together,”** he hissed.

His reiatsu flared again, pushing away Captains Hirako and Hitsugaya. Rukia looked down at the struggling captains below, shocked that she could breathe easily and stand upright. “We…trained with the Zero Division,” Rukia stammered. “That’s all. _Ichigo, you have to fight him!”_

“I’m—I’m trying,” came Ichigo’s voice, sounding a thousand miles away and exhausted. Zangetsu howled again, his hand tightening around Rukia’s wrist before releasing.

**“You did more than train, Queenie. Or do you not remember what you came back with?”**

Rukia stared at the hollow. “I…came back with my bankai,” she said hesitantly. “ _Ichigo, please_. I don’t want to hurt you!”

“May…have to…” Ichigo’s voice came from the bone-white mouth and the hollow’s eyes flickered.

Zangetsu backed away from her and roared, hands tightening around his blades as he bled off even more reiatsu into the air. **“You’re _lying_!” **he accused and paced in the air before her. **“You abandoned the King and left him to that whining, weak _human_ who couldn’t even call him by his _name_! You all abandoned him, left him for ten years! Left him in a _flood_ so that we both nearly drowned in it!” **

Rukia’s jaw dropped open and her eyes prickled, but she kept Sode no Shirayuki pointed at Zangetsu and forced down the churning inside until her face was placid. “Hollow, I don’t have any idea what you mean. Ichigo wanted a normal life. He loves Orihime. But you need to give Ichigo back _right now_.”

 **“Zangetsu, and no, he doesn’t,”** the hollow hissed. He plucked at the air, and the red thread appeared between them, tangled and frayed but still connected. **“ _This_ is what I mean. Don’t lie and say you don’t remember. Don’t give me that bullshit about a normal life.”**

Rukia shook her head “I am not lying, Zangetsu. I don’t know what that is.”

The hollow grabbed for her wrist again, deceptively gentle even though white was starting to bleed down the wrist and his fingernails were becoming claws. **“WHO stole you from us?”** he roared, and Rukia flinched back. The hand gentled further, as if responsive to her fear. **“WHO?”**

She shook her head violently, long hair flying in the wind. Byakuya was beneath them, and she heard a calm _Bankai. Senbonzakura kageyoshi_ drift up. Millions of sharp sakura blossom petals swirled around them, and with another roar Zangetsu swung his blade, destroying half of them with a single getsuga tenshō. The other half swirled, kept back by the absurdly strong reiatsu he was still expending as if it were nothing. His eyes glared down at Byakuya and he hissed, **“You will not hurt the Queen!”** , causing the Sixth Division captain’s eyes to widen.

“Ichigo, Ichigo you have to come back,” Rukia whispered, and met Zangetsu’s eyes. “We can figure out whatever is going on, but you need to come back to us.”

Zangetsu snarled and settled the shorter of his blades on his hip. His hand grabbed hers, right over the hilt of Sode no Shirayuki. **“I’m done with this shit.”** Before Rukia could react, he pulled the zanpakutō from her hand and grabbed her, tossing her over his shoulder. He shoved the bare blade through his obi.

“ _Ichigo_!” Her new position gave her a look down at the ground, where Byakuya and Kyouraku were staring up at the spectacle. She started to recite a kidō.

 **“Stubborn,”** he growled, and swung his blade again, dispelling more of the sharp petals of Senbonzakura. Zangetsu leapt higher into the air and flash-stepped toward the Sōkyoku, Rukia held securely over his shoulder and the words torn from her lips.

Rukia was starting to feel a little nauseated as they traveled and closed her eyes to the fast-moving buildings beneath her. _He grabbed Sode no Shirayuki so easily. How?_ she asked herself. They came to a sudden stop and Zangetsu landed. She opened her eyes and wriggled to try and escape his hold. “Ichigo, what are you _doing_?”

 **“King and I are in agreement on this one, Queen. Shinigami bastards built a monument to their own stupidity,”** he growled. They were standing atop the rebuilt Sōkyoku, towering hundreds of feet above the rest of the Seireitei. Three of the captains had given chase, and Zangetsu snorted as Kyouraku released his shikai.

“Even you can’t hope to win against the entire Seireitei. Put me _down_ , Ichigo,” Rukia pleaded.

Zangetsu eyed her and jumped a short distance above the Sōkyoku. **“Don’t move, Queenie,”** he ordered, and shoved his blade down into the crosspiece. **“Getsuga _tensho!”_ **he roared, and black power crackled down the length of the blade and into the Sōkyoku itself. The white structure shuddered and began to crack, raining shards down onto the ground below.

“Ichigo – Zangetsu – you can’t hope to break it this time, it’s much stronger than the old one.” Rukia’s voice fell unheard as Zangetsu roared, his voice echoing like a hollow’s through the air.

The white wood and stone of the Sōkyoku shattered, shards flying hundreds of feet through the air, and Zangetsu leapt higher into the sky and shunpo’d further away, still carrying Rukia. She could see more shinigami gathering below.

They reached a point higher above the Seireitei and Zangetsu stopped, gently lowering Rukia to the ground beneath them. It was the hill on which she and Ichigo had said their goodbyes once before. Zangetsu’s eyes stared into hers, irises yellow and sclerae blackened. **“You have to remember,”** he demanded.

“Remember _what_?” Rukia asked and tried to grab for Sode no Shirayuki. Zangetsu’s free hand grabbed her wrist to stop her and the tangled, frayed thread appeared once more. Something snapped like a rubber band inside her head. Zangetsu touched the thread with one fingertip. **“ _Remember,”_ **he demanded, and the world stopped.

“RUKIA!”

Rukia was falling through a dark sky filled with rain. It hadn’t been raining in the Seireitei.

Ichigo was screaming her name.

Sode no Shirayuki was screaming her name.

Zangetsu howled her name even louder.

She landed with barely a splash and sunk beneath freezing cold water, eyes wide with shock. Bubbles burst from her lips as the impact pushed the air from her lungs, and her eyes followed them as they rose toward the surface. A hand reached for hers and she grabbed it, allowing it to haul her up. A second hand joined the first and Ichigo dragged her from the water onto a wide, slick white surface. He held her up as she took deep breaths and coughed out the water she’d inhaled. “Where…?”

Ichigo – the real Ichigo, orange-haired and mask-free – helped her straighten up. It was still pouring rain, and his hair was plastered to his head; his clothes were plastered to his body. “We’re in my inner world. Not sure how you got here.”

Rukia looked up at him, into amber eyes that softened as they met hers. “Zangetsu…did something.”

The words made him scowl. “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him,” he growled.

Rukia shook her head quickly. “No – he said…he kept calling me the queen. He sounded _offended_ by the idea that he’d hurt me.” She observed how the words made a flush climb up Ichigo’s cheeks despite the freezing rain. “He…he accused me of abandoning you and keeping someone from you. Someone he called a princess.”

Ichigo looked away quickly. “I didn’t see you for years,” he mumbled. “Not since your…wedding.”

Rukia’s head hung down. “I didn’t mean for it to be that long,” she whispered. “But…but I don’t know what he means. Or how he pulled me here.”

 **“I brought you here to see the flooding and to _remember_ , Queen.” **The hollow was in front of them, a white mirror image of Ichigo once more and free of the white bone that had been forming on Ichigo’s body in the outside world.

“Remember _what?_ ” Rukia asked again.

“Remember what you were forced to forget.” The words were a whisper of snow and ice. Ichigo and Rukia turned, barely aware that they were clutching one another’s hands. A tall, pale woman stood across from Zangetsu, clad in a white kimono covered in pastel flowers, and a lavender obi wrapped around her waist. A star sapphire sparkled in her hair, which was pulled up into an elaborate design.

“S-Sode no Shirayuki?” Rukia whispered. “How are you _here?_ This…shouldn’t be possible.”

The zanpakutō looked upon her wielder soberly. “The red string. It is tangled but still intact, and when Zangetsu brought you here, I was pulled along as well.”

Zangetsu’s wild eyes softened as he looked at Shirayuki and nodded in agreement. “Sorry about that, snow lady.”

Rukia mouthed _snow lady, really?_

The other zanpakutō spirit waved a delicate hand in forgiveness and offered him a smile from behind her kimono sleeve. “It was necessary, Zangetsu-san.” Rukia’s eyebrows raised at the demure and nearly flirtatious behavior of her zanpakutō.

“What’s happening back _outside?_ ” Ichigo demanded. “Weren’t you trying to destroy half the Seireitei?”

“Fear not, Kurosaki-san. Time passes differently here. Not even a second has passed by in the Soul Society.”

“That’s great,” Ichigo replied, “but exactly what was Rukia forced to _forget_ and why did it suddenly make Zangetsu go on a rampage after ten years?” He left unsaid, _and how am I going to fix the fact that I beat three lieutenants, including Renji, half to death, if I can take back control?_

“You were both forced to forget,” Shirayuki corrected. “But now you must remember.”

Rukia swooned as a sudden wave of dizziness passed over her, and Ichigo cushioned her with his body as the same wave sent him to the ground. Darkness took them both.

 **“If you remember, why didn’t you tell her?”** Zangetsu growled.

Sode no Shirayuki lifted an arm and the sleeve of her kimono covered her face for a moment. “I am ashamed, Zangetsu-san,” she whispered. “But I was bound as well.”

Yellow reiatsu billowed up from Zangetsu and he turned to her. **“They _bound_ you? Bound a captain’s zanpakutō?”**

Shirayuki pursed her lips. “She has only been a captain for seven days,” she reminded him.

Left unsaid: it had only taken seven days for things to start falling apart.


	5. Ten Years Ago (What We Almost Were)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia and Ichigo remember some of what they lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit descriptions of consensual sex.

Ichigo found himself outside the door of Rukia’s chambers with tea and snack cakes on a tray handed to him by Kirio Hikifune, who had told him to share with “the tiny Shinigami who needed feeding.” Ichigo knocked lightly on the door.

It slid open a moment later, and Rukia looked up at him. She was already dressed for bed, having shed her shihakusho for a pale blue nightgown and a snow white, floral-embroidered kosode. “Ichigo?” she asked quietly.

“Kirio-san sent me with tea,” Ichigo explained, lifting the tray. He was wearing pajama pants already, with a plain, black cotton kosode on top. The kosode was wrapped around him loosely, allowing the top of his chest to peek through.

Rukia flushed pink but opened the door wider. “Aa,” she said, by way of agreement. “Please.”

Ichigo stepped around her and set the tray down on a low table. He waited for Rukia to shut the door and sit before he joined her, sitting cross-legged across from her. The tea set Hikifune had provided was one of the most delicate works of porcelain he had ever seen. The porcelain was thin and translucent at the rim of each cup, and painted with a needle-thin ring of gold. The outside of each cup blossomed into an array of deep blue cherry blossoms. The tea pot was more modest, with only a single blossom on each side. Ichigo set one of the cups in front of Rukia and poured for her before filling his own cup. He set the tea pot to the side and pushed the plate of cookies toward her with a nudge.

Rukia picked up her cup and held it carefully as she inhaled the scent from the steaming liquid. “Hojicha,” she murmured. “Although it smells a little…different.”

“Kirio-san said it would strengthen us. I think it’s like her food, filled with her reiatsu. She said the cookies would do the same,” Ichigo explained. “She sent _shiroi koibito_.” Ichigo’s cheeks heated and he took a sip of his tea, swearing quietly when it was too hot and burnt his tongue.

“She didn’t send anything for Renji and Nii-sama?” Rukia asked.

“She might have. They’re staying in another guest house that’s pretty far from ours. She stopped me in the hallway, shoved the tray into my hands, and told me that you must need feeding because you’re so short.”

“Idiot,” Rukia shot back. “Stop calling me short.”

Ichigo set his cup down and put his hands on his knees. “ _She_ called you short! I’m just repeating what she said.”

“Hmph. Well, at least she was nice enough to send cookies,” Rukia mumbled. She picked up one of the cookies and bit it in half. “These are delicious,” she admitted when she’d chewed and swallowed.

“Yeah? I guess they would be – her cooking is some of the best I’ve ever had. Just don’t tell Yuzu that,” Ichigo ordered. He selected a cookie as well.

They were quiet for a time, sipping tea and eating the cookies. Ichigo poured a second cup for each of them, and he leaned back from the table. “It won’t be long now,” he said quietly. “I think they’ll send us back to Soul Society in the morning. I hope the rest of the Gotei are ready for what’s coming.”

Rukia nodded slowly. “I agree.” Her expression darkened, and she stared into her tea. “I’m sure they will be. Are you, Ichigo?”

Ichigo straightened up and set his cup back on the table. “I have you with me,” he pointed out, “And I have my true zanpakutō now. We’ve been training.”

Rukia hummed under her breath and took a sip of tea. “Ichigo…” Her tone drew his eyes to her, and they met across the table. “You may not have me during the war. There are so many of the Quincy. And their king is…formidable.”

“I always have you, Rukia. I told you before that we’re connected, here.” Without thinking, Ichigo reached across his table and one fingertip touched the center of Rukia’s chest, just between her breasts. They both blushed at the contact, and Ichigo pulled his hand back. Rukia grasped it before he could draw it out of reach. “S—”

“ _Don’t_ apologize,” Rukia said quietly. “We’ve always been connected. And if it helps you win…Ichigo, you need to win.”

That drew a small smile from the orange-haired shinigami, and he leaned forward, their hands still clasped together and eyes still meeting. “We’ll win, Rukia. And if we get separated, I’ll come back to you. And you’ll come back to me.”

“Yes,” Rukia whispered. They leaned in nearly at the same time and met over the table. Her eyes fluttered shut as their lips touched. It was nearly chaste at first, just a press of skin against skin, but then Ichigo deepened it, his mouth slanting over hers and his body leaning up to tug her closer. He tasted of tea and the white chocolate from the cookies, Rukia decided, and something more underneath that.

Eventually, it was clear that the table was an obstacle, and Ichigo shoved it out of the way with his free hand to pull Rukia closer still. She came willingly, and Ichigo’s arm wrapped around her waist as her tongue darted out to find his. One – or maybe both of them – moaned, and suddenly Rukia was in his lap, pressed against him from the chest down.

When Ichigo finally pulled back for air, his breathing uneven, Rukia met his eyes despite the blush in her cheeks. “Is this okay?” he asked. “We can stop, if…”

Rukia nodded quickly. “More than okay. I don’t want to stop,” she said in a rush, and leaned up to kiss him again. Their initial kisses and Ichigo’s work to pull her close had loosened her kosode, and it draped open, leaving only Rukia’s thin nightgown between them. Ichigo murmured an agreement into her mouth and pulled her closer, making them both gasp when her breasts pressed against his bare chest. Her hand found the back of his neck and threaded into the locks of hair at his nape.

Ichigo pulled away an indeterminate amount of time later, and Rukia made a noise of complaint in her throat, but his lips trailed down her neck instead and his teeth nibbled at the soft skin where her neck and shoulder met. Rukia’s hand left the back of his neck and she peeled his kosode from one shoulder; Ichigo reluctantly dropped her hand from his to help, pulling the fabric from his body and letting it fall behind them. His hands found the white fabric of her kosode and pulled, but gently. “Is this okay?” he asked again, his voice rough.

At Rukia’s murmur of assent his long fingers swept between them to fully undo the tie at her waist. His hands came back up to her shoulders and his palms pushed the fabric down, but slowly, gently, as if she might change her mind. Her arms were bare, and when she shivered involuntarily with a sudden chill, Ichigo’s hands rubbed along her forearms and then her biceps softly, before sweeping back up to cradle her face and kiss her again, just once. He leaned back a little to look at her.

Rukia lowered her eyes, hiding them from him beneath long eyelashes.

“Beautiful,” Ichigo whispered, and claimed her mouth with his again. She shifted into him, legs straddling his lap, and Ichigo moaned involuntarily. Rukia pushed closer, rubbing her center against his, and Ichigo tore his mouth from hers to groan, hiding the noise against her neck.

“Ichigo,” Rukia murmured finally.

“Do you want me to stop?” Ichigo pulled back and met her eyes with his. His pupils were blown wide, and he was hard against her, but he looked ready to back off if she said so. Even though his hands were shaking against her skin.

“No. I want you to stay. I want you to stay with me tonight.” Rukia’s cheeks flushed pink at the words.

That was all Ichigo needed to hear. He lifted her from his lap and stood, then pulled her into his arms again before Rukia could complain. There was a low platform bed just beyond a pair of shoji dividers, and Ichigo carried her toward it. He had to shake them both free of her kosode, which had gotten caught between them. Then he caught his foot in the fabric from his and needed to hop on the other foot to dislodge it, making them both laugh. Eventually he laid her on the comforter and left her only long enough to slide the dividers shut.

When he returned to the bed, Rukia had taken off her nightgown, and the sight of her nearly ended things prematurely for them both. The bedroom was dimly lit by a few sconces, and the low light made Rukia’s skin glow. Ichigo joined her on the bed and worked his pajama pants off, leaving them both bare to one another.

Rukia’s eyes swept over him. There were scars, despite Kirinji’s hot spring; she knew that she had some as well. Most prominent was the line in the center of his chest where she’d stabbed him – twice – to first give and then restore his powers. Her fingertips reached out to touch it, and Ichigo’s hand pressed hers against his skin in response. There was another scar that wrapped over his shoulder where Renji had thrust his zanpakuto, and another…Rukia pulled away from that line of thought and her eyes drifted downward.

She reached for him, or maybe Ichigo reached for her, but they met in the middle of the bed with nothing to separate them. For a moment he just held her, arms cradling her smaller body against his. When their eyes met again, he smiled down at her and murmured, “I love you.”

The words sent a wave of warmth through Rukia, and she leaned into him. “I love you too. I…want you to touch me.” Their lips found one another again and Ichigo murmured something unintelligible against her mouth.

His hands found her breasts first, but then one swept along her waist and down to the back of her knee. He tugged, just a little, to make more room for himself, and lowered his mouth to worship. Rukia’s hands slid through his hair as he laved first one nipple and then the other with his tongue, then began to suck. His hand left her knee and slipped inwards, fingertips tracing along her inner thigh before finding the very center of her.

A hitched gasp met his ears, and Ichigo lifted his head to meet Rukia’s eyes with his heavy-lidded ones. “Okay?” he asked again.

“Yes,” she whispered, and her hands pulled him closer to kiss him again before her mouth trailed down his neck. Rukia _bit_ , gently, pulling a low groan from Ichigo, who retaliated by rubbing his fingers purposefully over her clit until Rukia was moaning and trembling just a little beneath him as jolts of pleasure shot through her.

“Oh, you do like that,” he murmured into her ear. “Maybe…this?” His hand adjusted between them so that one finger could slide into her heat. “God, you’re wet,” he groaned and his mouth found hers again, licking into her as his thumb brushed over her clit again.

“Y-yes,” Rukia gasped, and her arms slid around his shoulders, nails biting into his back before she pulled away to reach down and grasp him. Her hand was like a lightning rod; Ichigo jerked into her fist and his moan pulled an echoing one from Rukia even as she pumped.

“I won’t last long if you do that,” Ichigo warned, even as he slid a second finger into her and pumped, curling them until Rukia rocked her hips up, up, looking for _more_ from him. Ichigo bit her lower lip and rubbed more firmly, finding a rhythm. “Yeah?” he asked, but the word wasn’t a request for permission. “Do you want more?”

Rukia moaned a wordless assent and Ichigo grinned against her lips, pumping his fingers into her more swiftly. His free hand fell to the bed to brace himself above her, giving them both more room. “Open your eyes,” he mumbled into her mouth and when Rukia did, startled at the demand, Ichigo stared into hers as he pushed against a spot that made her head tilt back and her mouth drop open. He pulled a keening sound from her as she saw stars. “Again,” he whispered, and rubbed harder. “I want…” Ichigo didn’t finish the sentence, he just kissed her again and swallowed her next moan. His fingers pulled out and spread her wetness over her skin, then dove back in.

Rukia was reduced to high-pitched noises, although her hand still pumped him, trying to share with him the pleasure that he was giving her. But hers spiraled up, and her hand fell away as Ichigo pressed _just_ right. Pleasure washed over her in a wave that shook her entire body, rippling outwards as she _keened_ through an orgasm that sent her inner walls clenching tightly around Ichigo’s fingers.

Ichigo swallowed her moans, whispering, “Yes, just like that, Rukia,” against her mouth. His fingers worked her through it until Rukia collapsed, shaking, beneath him and her eyes opened again, heavy-lidded and the violet of her irises only thin rings around blown-wide pupils. She’d been clutching the bedclothes with one hand; the other was on his shoulder, nails biting into his skin. 

“I want—” Their eyes met and Rukia reached for him again, pulling him closer, closer. One leg hooked around his hips and Ichigo dipped his head down to bite her shoulder gently.

“You want?” he asked against her skin.

Rukia’s cheeks burned bright red, but she looked him in the eyes when he lifted his head once more. “I want you inside of me.”

Ichigo needed no encouragement: his fingers slid away, and he used her slick to pump himself once, twice, before his palm wrapped around her hip and pulled her closer. “Have you…?”

“Not…not in a very long time.” Suddenly awkward, Rukia looked away.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” Ichigo murmured, and his lips brushed hers. He shifted, and then pushed, but gently, gently, as Rukia’s mouth dropped open again and she clutched at him. “You’re so, so wet,” he whispered against her neck, groaning as she enveloped him.

Rukia used the leg wrapped around his hips to pull him in deeper, and they groaned together as he bottomed out inside of her. Her head fell backwards against a pillow and she shook at the feeling of utter fullness, of being so close to Ichigo that they were one being. Their reiatsu spilled out and filled the room, twining together as intimately as their bodies. Ichigo stayed still like that for a long moment, his breathing harsh in the silence of the bedroom. He slid a hand around to the back of her neck and claimed her mouth again, until Rukia demanded against his lips, “I need you to move, Ichigo, I need…”

Then they were moving together, Ichigo pumping inside of her with long, slow thrusts that left them both gasping for air. “More,” Rukia whispered, and Ichigo used her hip to pull her closer. Their bodies slapped together in the warming air, sweat making them slick against one another.

She could feel tension spiraling within her once more, and Ichigo seemed to sense it too, because his hand fled from her hip and found her clit again, rubbing quickly even as he thrust into her. They were short, sharp thrusts that made Rukia’s breath come out in little shrieks that he swallowed, and he whispered into her mouth, “Come with me,” as his fingers pushed, his cock filling her. He stayed there a moment, grinding against her and whispered again, “Come _with_ me, Rukia.”

Rukia shook beneath him, whispering “Uh-huh,” into his mouth. She didn’t recognize her own voice, but it didn’t matter because Ichigo had found that spot again and she spiraled up, up, up and then a second orgasm crashed through her in a wave that Ichigo found too, his thrusts short as he groaned her name into her mouth and wet heat rushed into her with his release. Their reiatsu spiraled with them and crashed down, blowing out the sconces and sending the shoji dividers creaking.

They came back to themselves slowly, when Ichigo lifted his weight from her and turned them so that Rukia was draped over him. “I love you,” he murmured again, and kissed her forehead. His arms pulled her in tight, and Rukia let her head fall to his chest, arm wrapping around him to pull him closer as well.

“I love you too.”

They drifted together for a while, eventually rousing themselves in the middle of the night to crawl beneath the covers and make love a second time. Their reiatsu still lingered in the air, sinking into the walls around them. A bright red thread, fine as silk, drifted in and out of existence around them as they slept.

In the morning, Ichigo kissed Rukia awake and they made love a third time languidly, their reiatsu melding one last time. “Stay with me,” Ichigo whispered into her mouth when they were still again.

“There’s a war,” Rukia reminded him. Her lips were kiss-swollen and she looked as relaxed as Ichigo had ever seen her, despite the subject.

“After the war,” he corrected. “Whether it’s in Soul Society, or the world of the living, or even Hueco Mundo. Say you’ll stay with me.”

Rukia snorted. “ _Hueco Mundo?_ Idiot.” But then she softened again. “Yes. Yes, I’ll stay with you.”

They bathed together, then dressed in silence before righting the room. With one more kiss, Ichigo slipped from Rukia’s quarters and into the room he’d been assigned to exchange his nightclothes for a clean shihakusho. He didn’t notice the eyes watching him.

In the end, it was Ichigo, Ishida, and Aizen who defeated Yhwach. Aizen’s illusion created a perfect distraction and as Renji waited in bankai to keep Yhwach from escaping, Ishida shot an arrow into Ychwach’s heart. Ichigo, whose reiatsu warmed the very air around him, leapt forward and even as his cracked zanpakutō broke to reveal another beneath it, Ichigo roared and his getsuga tenshō, his bankai, sliced Yhwach to pieces.

Afterwards, Rukia and Ichigo found each other again. They half-carried one another, both dripping blood from a dozen wounds. Ichigo’s shihakusho was falling apart, leaving his arms uncovered and his chest bare to the waist. Rukia had fared a little better, but she’d lost both of her tekko and the right leg of her hakama was sheared off at mid-thigh. 

“Do you think it’s really over?” Rukia asked as they landed outside of what used to be the Eighth Division barracks. Ichigo’s arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer, and not coincidentally he applied pressure to a hastily-bandaged slash along her side.

“He said he would find us in our happiest moment,” Ichigo said quietly. He set off toward the Fourth Division, hoping it was still there. They’d left Inoue to heal more seriously wounded combatants. “I killed him, but…”

Rukia shifted closer. “Do you think it’s even possible?”

“If it is, we’ll just – have to beat him again.” Ichigo’s lips brushed her temple. “So long as it’s not right now. You need to get that shoulder looked at.”

“Fool. Your wounds are worse than mine,” Rukia retorted, but there was no heat in her voice.

Renji had landed behind them, but he said nothing. His lips tightened at the way Ichigo and Rukia held one another.

Rukia and Ichigo staggered, Renji trailing behind them, into the courtyard of the Fourth Division. The damage was extensive, but it looked like the relief station had been, if not spared, not completely destroyed. Unohana was gone; so many others were gone. But Hanatarō was there, and with a new maturity in his eyes he guided them to empty beds next to one another and left to assign healers to them. He ushered Renji in another direction and the Sixth Division lieutenant looked over his shoulder as he followed Hanatarō.

It was when Ichigo and Rukia were both being healed by members of the Fourth Division that it happened. Under sedation, and under the watchful eye of someone shadowed in darkness, the part of Rukia’s mind that remembered and treasured the newest evolution of her relationship with Ichigo was blocked off. And through a process known only to that person, Sode no Shirayuki was bound from telling her Shinigami wielder what had happened.

The process having been successful, they repeated the procedure on an unconscious Ichigo Kurosaki, sealing away all memory of their night in the Soul King’s palace. They couldn’t completely bind Zangetsu, but their assailant pronounced the second procedure a success as well.

Given everything that had happened, no one investigated too closely when the Fourth Division’s ninth seat was found dead, apparently by suicide, a week later.

* * *

Within Ichigo’s inner world, Rukia stirred first, but it was Ichigo who sat them up as he woke, an arm wrapped around Rukia’s shoulders as he held her against his chest. He stared at Zangetsu and Sode no Shirayuki. His head was bowed. Sode no Shirayuki, the most beautiful zanpakutō in all of Soul Society, was _crying_. Tears ran down her cheeks and turned to ice, falling and shattering as they hit the ground.

“ _Why?_ ” Ichigo demanded. His fingers flexed against Rukia’s shoulder. The rain became a deluge, erasing both zanpakutō spirits from his sight before Sode no Shirayuki conjured a covering of ice to deflect it.

“We do not know, Kurosaki-san.” Shirayuki sighed. “Zangetsu-san, you are right, this rain is nearly unbearable.”

“Well excuse me for being upset that my _allies_ apparently erased my memory and Rukia’s and tore us apart,” Ichigo snarled.

 **“Time’s short, King. What are you going to do to stop the rain?”** Zangetsu asked. **“Before we _all_ drown.”**

“Burn down the entire Seireitei,” Ichigo growled under his breath, but Rukia’s hand on his chest stilled him.

“Nii-sama,” she said, though her cheeks were pale and eyes red-rimmed. She pulled away from him, but only slightly, and dried her eyes. “Nii-sama will help us, once he realizes what happened.”

Ichigo snorted. “He probably wanted it to happen. He hurried your marriage to Renji along, didn’t he?”

Rukia ducked her head. “I don’t think so,” she whispered. “It wasn’t entirely…voluntary. The Kuchiki elders insisted I marry. They never explained why. Renji and I don’t – Nii-sama insisted that he live in the Sixth Division barracks. He sends him away on long-term missions.”

Ichigo’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll talk about that later. There’s…a lot to talk about later. If you think Byakuya will help, then we’ll ask him first. Hopefully he’ll listen and won’t just set _Senbonzakura_ on me,” he grumbled.

They stood, and Ichigo looked at Zangetsu. “You’re going to have to hand control back over, partner.”

Zangetsu smirked. **“I like having control. You haven’t been any fun in ten years.”**

“Yeah, well. Rukia and I have to _talk_ to some of these assholes, and I can’t do that if you’re throwing _ceros_ around.” Rukia mumbled something about him calling Byakuya an asshole, and Ichigo grunted.

The hollow shrugged. **“Have it your way, King. Go find out why they took the Queen from you.”**

Ichigo nodded, his mouth set in a firm line, and he grasped Rukia’s hand. “And Zangetsu…thanks.”

They both faded, leaving Zangetsu and Sode no Shirayuki alone for a moment under a melting ice shield.

“You did not tell them the rest,” Shirayuki pointed out.

Zangetsu sighed heavily and looked over at her. **“Snow lady, if we’d told them _that_ , not even your ice would be enough to keep us all from drowning.”**

The elegant spirit gave a nod of agreement, and then she, too, faded away, leaving Zangetsu to search for higher ground. **“This better work,”** he grumbled. 

The world started moving again. The white skin and bone spreading over Ichigo’s body shattered, and his reiryoku fluctuated wildly before stabilizing. Rukia came back to herself as well, and they stared into one another’s eyes for a long moment.

“Kurosaki-kun. Did you have fun destroying my old barracks?” Kyōraku Soutaicho was only a few feet away. He was still wearing his trademark straw hat and floral kosode over his haori, and he looked deceptively cheerful despite the devastation Zangetsu had wrought.

The larger of Ichigo’s zanpakutō came up, shielding Rukia, and she pulled Sode no Shirayuki from his obi. “Dance, Sode no Shirayuki,” she said in a low voice, and the blade shone pure white as a long, white ribbon spilled from its hilt.

“Kyōraku Soutaicho,” Ichigo greeted. He glanced at Rukia’s brother. “Byakuya.”

“Would you care to explain why you attacked three fukutaicho and nearly killed mine?” Byakuya asked calmly. “And kidnapped my sister,” he added.

“Only from the people who keep trying to **destroy the Queen in the first place.** ” Ichigo’s words distorted as Zangetsu made himself known again. “Did you know that someone sealed some of Rukia’s memories, just after the war?” Ichigo demanded. He watched Byakuya’s eyes widen slightly.

“Rukia, is this true?”

Rukia’s blade came up, and she, too, stared at her brother and Kyōraku. “My memories were blocked, and Sode no Shirayuki was _bound_ so that she could not awaken them. When Zangetsu saw me in the world of the living several days ago, our proximity must have awoken _him_ and he realized what happened.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did _you_ give anyone permission to bind my zanpakutō, Kyōraku Soutaicho?”

“Yare yare, Rukia-chan,” Kyōraku chided. “That is a grave accusation.”

Rukia tossed her head, black hair flaring around her; her blade, white ribbon gleaming in the moonlight, rose higher. “Something was stolen from us both. And I _will_ know who did it, and why,” she said, voice flat and eyes staring both men down.


	6. Damaged Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and Rukia confront Kyoraku and Byakuya. Urahara makes his own trip to Soul Society.

For the second time in a single night, a pair of doors opened over the Seireitei. Urahara Kisuke, his dark green haori flapping in the wind, leapt out first. He was followed by Shihouin Yoruichi, dressed in a close-cut orange shirt and black leggings.

“I see Ichigo’s been here already,” Yoruichi commented as they landed outside of the Fourth Division.

Urahara straightened up and turned his head toward the Fourth Division courtyard, where members of the division were already starting the clean-up process. “I suppose he has,” he agreed. He raised his head and set off in the direction of the destroyed Sōkyōku, with Yoruichi following close behind.

On the cliff high above the Seireitei, Ichigo kept his eyes on Kyōraku and Byakuya. Zangetsu still roared inside him – and Rukia’s reiatsu, normally so under control, told him more than her words that she was nearly as angry. “Well?” he asked. His sandal scuffed on the ground as he shifted his weight, blades at the ready.

“We too late to join the party, Soutai— _Ichigo?_ Kuchiki Taicho?”

Ichigo stifled a groan. Ikkaku was standing in the air above them, sealed zanpakutō held over one shoulder. The man was as bald as ever, but he had the badge of a fukutaicho wrapped around one arm. Yumichika was with him, hair cut in a bob and a white cape fluttering around his shoulders. “Ikkaku. Yumichika,” he greeted, but kept his blades up. He exchanged a glance with Rukia, and her amethyst eyes were dark and troubled.

“Guess you haven’t gotten rusty after all these years,” Ikkaku drawled, but his eyes darted between Ichigo and Rukia, and he kept his zanpakutō sheathed.

There were others gathering around them; even if he couldn’t see them, Ichigo could feel their reiatsu around him. But he’d been powerful beyond even Aizen’s wildest dreams, once, and he didn’t even care to try and control what _he_ put out. So he let the reiatsu around him spiral high and knock the weaker of the shinigami surrounding them on their asses.

Kyōraku wiped his brow and glanced up at the two men from the Eleventh Division, then at Shinji and Hitsugaya, who were poised but hanging back at a distance. “You’re quite surrounded, Kurosaki,” he pointed out.

But Ichigo bared his teeth as he growled, “I’d rather not fight all of you again. Had enough of that when I was fifteen. But I will if it means keeping Rukia safe from whoever did this.” He really _didn’t_ want to fight his way out of Soul Society – Zangetsu had put down three fukutaicho without much of a struggle, but _Ichigo_ hadn’t swung his blades in years. **_Don’t be an idiot, King,_** came Zangetsu’s voice once more. ** _‘Course I’ll help if we have to break the Queen out. And Shirayuki wants to freeze them all._**

Byakuya’s eyes met his, and then fell on Rukia once more as he sealed his zanpakutō and sheathed it, then turned to Kyōraku. “Kyōraku Soutaicho. It is a crime to tamper with another’s zanpakutō without reason, and we must investigate both this accusation and the accusation of memory-stealing.”

Kyōraku pushed his hat up with his thumb and looked at Ichigo and Rukia. “He injured three of our fukutachio,” he said to Byakuya, “while under the control of his own zanpakutō. Including yours, Kuchiki Taicho. And he has caused extensive damage to the Eighth and Fourth divisions and destroyed the Sōkyōku.”

Byakuya just kept his eyes on Kyōraku as he said, “If what Kurosaki Ichigo and Rukia say is true, then his zanpakutō has uncovered a crime against a noblewoman and a leader of the Gōtei 13. Not to mention the man who saved Soul Society. As you may well recall, Kyōraku Soutaicho.” His voice was steady, but his hand was on the hilt of Senbonzakura.

“Hn,” Kyōraku said, and took his hand from his own blade. “I never did like the fact that we rebuilt that thing.”

“May I suggest that we adjourn to the assembly hall and summon Kotetsu Taicho?” Byakuya asked.

“No,” Rukia objected, and raised her chin. “We will speak here, not shrouded in secrets.”

Kyōraku raised an eyebrow and glanced upwards at the four other Shinigami who stood on the air above them. “You’re sure you want to do this here?”

Ichigo shrugged, though he didn’t lower his blades. “Like Rukia said. No more shrouding things in secrets.” He pitched his voice to carry through the air around them. Then he met Byakuya’s eyes and nodded solemnly. “Thank you.” He didn’t apologize for hurting Renji; Zangetsu howled inside of him that the other Shinigami couldn’t possibly be blameless.

Byakuya lifted his hand and a hell butterfly landed on it a moment later, then took off once more, flying toward the Fourth Division.

“Rukia,” Byakuya said in a low voice. Ichigo stared at Byakuya until the older man spoke again. “Rukia,” Byakuya repeated, “I am sorry.”

Rukia looked at him, long hair twining and tangling in the gust of wind that flattened the long grass around them. “Nii-sama?” she asked quietly.

The Kuchiki clan head stared into the distance beyond the cliff and would not meet her gaze. “I should have known that the threads were tangled. I promised not to allow anyone to hurt my pride, and yet again it has fallen to Kurosaki to correct my failings.” After that somewhat cryptic statement, he turned back to Kyōraku, hand still on the hilt of his blade, and nodded.

Ichigo and Rukia exchanged a look and his shoulder lightly brushed against hers.

“Now then,” Kyōraku started. He tipped his hat back up to better look at them with his good eye. “What’s this about stealing memories and binding zanpakutō? And then, Kurosaki, you can explain why you came here without an invitation and attacked us all.”

Ichigo cleared his throat. “While Rukia and I were training with the Zero Division, we…” His cheeks reddened. “We decided to begin a relationship. After we defeated Yhwach, we went to the Fourth Division to find someone who could heal us. Inoue was already…dealing with others.”

Above them, Yumichika nudged Ikkaku, _hard_ , and the bald man rolled his eyes.

“One of the seated officers sedated us both,” Rukia explained. “Then he, and someone else – I don’t know who – sealed away our memories of what had happened. They sealed away the memories of how we felt.

“Tonight, when Ichigo arrived in the Seireitei, his zanpakutō pulled me – and Sode no Shirayuki – into Ichigo’s inner world. Zangetsu must have managed to undo the binding that had been placed on Sode no Shirayuki. Without the binding, they were able to return our memories to us,” Rukia finished.

Byakuya’s eyes narrowed. “You agreed to be together?”

Rukia nodded shortly. “I am sure that Ichigo would have asked for your blessing after the war, if we had not been _attacked_.” She didn’t even have to kick Ichigo to get him to nod in agreement.

“Instead, I went back to the world of the living and, after Rukia married Renji right after the war, and then I never heard from anyone in Soul Society at all…I started seeing Orihime.”

Rukia’s hand tightened on the hilt of Sode no Shirayuki, and ice-cold reiatsu kicked up around her.

“And so, Kurosaki, how did you end up _here_ tonight?” Kyōraku was looking at them carefully. “Your wife had soul tickets, after all. You didn’t need to break in.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow at Kyōraku. “I don’t know what those are. When Rukia, Renji, and Ichika came to visit something must have woken up Zangetsu,” Ichigo rolled his shoulders. “He took over my body a week later and came here to take Rukia back.”

“Your hollow decided to _kidnap_ my sister?” A threatening tone had entered Byakuya’s voice.

Ichigo grimaced. “Zangetsu thought Rukia was in danger. He seemed to know that her memories had been bound. And he keeps referring to a princess as well.”

“Orihime?” Rukia asked quietly, but Ichigo shook his head.

“Zangetsu, uh, never calls her that. What he calls Orihime isn’t very nice.” Ichigo cleared his throat. **Pretender** , Zangetsu hissed in his mind.

Rukia’s head shot up and she looked at Ichigo oddly. “Was Zangetsu just speaking?” she asked in a whisper.

Byakuya’s face drained of all color, but he stayed silent as Kyōraku asked, “And the best way to “rescue” Kuchiki Taicho was to attack us?”

“Ah – I think he actually _was_ just looking for Rukia, but Urahara’s senkaimon let him – me – out over the Fourth Division. I guess Kotetsu Taicho didn’t recognize me and she called for assistance to remove an intruder. He saw that the Sōkyoku had been rebuilt,” Ichigo glanced at Kyouraku, “And then when some of the unseated Shinigami from the Eighth started attacking me, Zangetsu…did what he does best.”

Kotetsu Isane landed on the grassy cliff, haori billowing around her and chin-length white hair swaying in the strong breeze. Hanataro landed behind her and scrambled to keep his balance.

“Kotetsu Taicho,” Kyōraku greeted.

Isane bowed to him but her hands fell to her hips and she glared at Ichigo. “You destroyed my courtyard,” she said flatly, “and injured a dozen men.”

“We’ll get to that,” Byakuya said calmly. “Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Taicho claim that their memories were tampered with by a member of your division after the blood war.”

Isane looked over at them, eyes wide. “The aftermath was chaos,” she said. “There were so many dead. Captain Unohana was gone, and it fell to the rest of us to sort out who could be saved.” She paused. “We lost more than one member of the Fourth to the stress of it all.” She looked at Kyōraku.

Kyōraku’s voice turned serious, and he focused on Isane as he said, “I want to know what healing procedures the Fourth used on Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki.”

Isane exchanged a look with Hanatarō, who swallowed. “I cared for Ichigo and Captain Kuchiki,” he volunteered, “When they first arrived at the relief station. They both had serious injuries, and Ichigo was suffering from acute exhaustion. I cast two basic healing kido to slow blood loss, and then assigned our ninth seat at the time, Yosuke Ito.” He frowned briefly. “Unfortunately, Ito-san died only a week after the war ended.”

Ichigo’s shoulders slumped. “So we can’t ask him what he did. Were other division members assigned to us?”

Hanatarō shrugged helplessly. “It was so chaotic, Ichigo. Ito-san may have pulled in unseated members of the division, but we were shorthanded.” He looked down. “I’m sorry that I didn’t assign myself to the task.”

“Perhaps Mayuri Taicho can discover more,” Kyōraku suggested, but Ichigo growled at the other man’s words.

“I won’t let him touch either of us. He should have been executed as a _war criminal_ ,” Ichigo bit out, and Zangetsu howled within him.

Urahara and Yoruichi landed on the grass lightly as Ichigo finished speaking.

“Urahara-san,” Kyōraku greeted. “We’re playing host to all sorts of unexpected visitors tonight.”

Urahara bowed slightly in greeting and swept closer, his eyes shadowed by the green and white striped hat on his head. “Kyōraku,” he responded. “Kotetsu Taicho, Kuchiki Taicho…and Kuchiki Taicho, of course.” He turned his head. “And Ichigo. I’d have stayed awake if I knew you needed my senkaimon. I thought I’d come see if I could help.”

Ichigo glanced away. “Ah…long story.”

Quickly, Rukia summarized what had happened, cheeks blushing when Urahara whipped out his ubiquitous hand fan and grinned behind it. But he sobered quickly. “Memory tampering is serious. Especially for you, Kuchiki.” He glanced at Kyōraku. “How can I help?”

“Can you verify whether the memories “recovered” by Kurosaki-san and Kuchiki Taicho are real?” Isane asked.

“Can you figure out who _did_ this?” Ichigo demanded. “Whoever it was took…” He stopped, teeth clenched, and lowered his head. The red thread appeared, tangled and knotted as it wrapped around Ichigo and Rukia, and everyone on the cliff fell silent until it vanished again. When Ichigo looked up again Byakuya’s face was as white as milk, and even Urahara and Kyōraku looked pale and stunned.

“Yes, Ichigo, I can help.” Urahara’s tone turned serious and he took his hat off. Without the shade from its brim it was clear that the skin around his eyes was scarred, and one was covered with a dark green eyepatch. He stood, then, and looked over the assembled group with his good eye. “I suggest that Ichigo and Kuchiki Taicho – Rukia – come with me.”

“And what about the fact that Kurosaki-san destroyed part of the Fourth Division and severely injured _three_ officers of the Gōtei?” Isane demanded.

“Actually, Matsumoto was barely injured, just stunned, and Kira’s condition is mostly due to the fact that Ichigo aggravated a war wound that was never properly healed,” Hanatarō explained. “We’ll finally be taking care of _that_ , and they’ll both be able to leave the relief station tomorrow.” He quailed when Byakuya looked at him, but the nobleman returned his attention to Urahara quickly.

“Soutaicho, with your permission I believe some of the records within the Kuchiki archives will be of assistance to Urahara,” he said calmly. “And I must see to my niece.” Kyōraku just nodded.

“The matter of Kurosaki’s arrival can wait,” Kyōraku agreed. “Kurosaki and Kuchiki Taicho will be studied by Urahara. Kotetsu Taicho, Third Seat Yamada, I leave you to care for our injured colleagues.” He tipped his hat and disappeared into shunpo.

Above the cliff, Yumichika nudged Ikkaku again, and the bald man grabbed his comrade and dragged him off. Shinji and Hitsugaya followed without a word.

Ichigo and Rukia stepped into shunpo after Urahara silently, and if they drifted too close to one another while flash stepping to a small building along the outer wall of the Seireitei, well, neither Urahara nor Yoruichi said anything. “What is this place?” Rukia asked when Urahara led them through a modest door and down a set of dimly lit stone stairs.

“After the war,” Urahara explained, “Kyōraku Soutaicho let me build a small lab. Ah, here we are.” He opened a second door, and they emerged into a low-ceilinged white room. A computer, with a screen that would have caused any homeowner envy in the world of the living, took up one full wall. Another wall held two beds separated by a metal screen. “Onto the beds,” he ordered.

Ichigo and Rukia exchanged a look, but obediently sat down on the edge of each bed.

Byakuya entered the Kuchiki manor silently, using shunpo to slip past the guards with a nod and then walking at a more leisurely pace through the magnificent building. Though it was still the middle of the night, a few servants were awake, and they bowed out of his way whenever he passed one. He found himself looking at Hisana’s shrine and, with no one to see him, sighed deeply and knelt in _seiza_.

“How did I not see?” he asked quietly, eyes on the picture of Hisana. He sat in silence for a long time, until it was nearly dawn, and then rose once more. A moment’s walk took him to the archives he thought would be of assistance to Urahara, and it didn’t take long at all to find the two books he sought.

Before looking for Urahara, however, Byakuya crossed the inner courtyard of the manor to Ichika’s room. The girl was still sleeping on her futon when he arrived, and he watched Ichika sleep, her chest rising and falling evenly. In the low light, her bright red hair was the shade of old blood. The girl already displayed an unusually high amount of spiritual pressure, even asleep, and for the first time Byakuya paid close attention to the feel of that pressure.

What he felt made his eyes widen, and once again his skin turned the color of fresh milk, nearly blending in with his haori. Byakuya knelt down and pulled the blanket away from Ichika’s face. She did not stir, but Byakuya’s jaw clenched. Replacing the blanket and smoothing his expression, the Head of the Kuchiki clan left his niece’s bedroom. He sought out Ichigo’s reiryoku, for the other man still could not conceal it worth a damn, and slipped into shunpo as he hurried in that direction.

“Have you found anything yet, Kisuke?” Yoruichi stretched and yawned, vertebrae cracking in the quiet of the lab. She’d taken up residence in one of the chairs along the back wall.

Urahara turned away from his screen to look at her. “Their memories are certainly _real_ ,” he said. “It’s hard to tell exactly what happened after ten years, but I _think_ whoever did this used healing kido.” Ichigo and Rukia lay silently in the two beds where Urahara had put them, eyes closed. Small beads circled above their heads.

Yoruichi’s eyes narrowed. “A _healing_ kido?”

“Aa. There are a few kido spells that deal with memory. I have seen one of them used to temporarily suppress disturbing memories while a patient comes to terms with a traumatic event. Unohana used to use it on Shinigami with post-traumatic stress,” Urahara explained. “Kuchiki-san’s memories were more affected than Ichigo’s; if I am right about the use of the kido spell, then it was practiced on her more than once.”

Urahara looked up. “Ah, there’s Byakuya now.”

The lab door slid open at the touch of a button, and Byakuya swept in. He spared a glance for Yoruichi, but it was Urahara he approached, placing two slender books on the desk next to the other man. “Have you made any progress?” he asked.

“As I was just telling Yoruichi, your sister and Kurosaki’s memories are real. Kuchiki-san’s memories were tampered with a second time later on.” Urahara looked up at Byakuya with his good eye. “Do you know anything about this, Byakuya?”

Byakuya turned, his eyes landing on his sister. She lay still on the narrow bed and breathed shallowly. “Her pregnancy was a difficult one,” he said after a moment. “And she was ill for many months afterwards. It is possible that something was done to her while she was under the care of the Fourth Division.”

Urahara raised an eyebrow. “I see. And these books – you think they will help?”

The captain nodded, once. “I know nothing of how Rukia’s memories disappeared. It is the red string that I am more concerned about, and the books deal with that.”

“Aa, the red string, yes,” Urahara mused. “You think their fates are tied, don’t you?”

“Hn. I should have seen it.”

Yoruichi chuckled lowly from her seat. “Are you sure you didn’t, Byakuya-bo? I heard a rumor that you don’t let Abarai spend much time with Rukia even though they’re married.”

Byakuya glared at her but said nothing.

Urahara fanned himself and looked over at his subjects. “Messy, messy,” he opined. “But it’s more important to find out who did this. Those beads are extracting copies of what our friends’ zanpakutō spirits sensed just before they were sealed.” He eyed Byakuya again. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” he asked, the fan concealing his expression.

Byakuya was still looking at his sister. “The boy’s zanpakutō has apparently referred to a princess,” he commented. “I find it curious.”

Urahara stayed behind his fan but turned his attention back to his computer and tapped a few keys. “There,” he said. “We should be able to wake them now.” He stood and strolled over to the pair of beds, poking at the beads above Ichigo. They flashed, once, and then Urahara snatched them up in his left hand. He did the same to Rukia and pocketed the beads. “Now then…” He poked Ichigo with the tip of his cane.

It was a mistake. Ichigo bolted upright and the shorter of his blades met the cane, eyes golden and the sclera black.

“Yare, yare, Ichigo. You’re safe here and I agreed to help you. Or is it Zangetsu I’m speaking to?” Urahara backed up a step; Ichigo’s reiatsu was skyrocketing and the room shook with barely-suppressed power.

Ichigo’s eyes cleared, but he was slow to lower his blade. “Where’s Rukia?”

“Just on the other side of this screen,” Urahara assured him. “I was just about to wake her.”

Ichigo sheathed his blade and rolled, feet landing on the floor. “Sorry.”

Urahara woke Rukia more gently than he had Ichigo, perhaps hoping to avoid having a second zanpakutō pointed at him in one morning. “Now then,” he said when Rukia was sitting up. “I’ve extracted what I could find of your memories in the Fourth Division. Shall we see if I can make things any clearer?”

Both Shinigami followed Urahara to the screen, and Byakuya joined them. Urahara pressed a key, and an image appeared on the screen: Rukia, unconscious on a bed in the relief station. Two figures stood next to the bed, one of them shadowed.

“The person on the left is Yosuke Ito,” Urahara commented. “He was the ninth seat who healed your wounds.” The glow of healing kido covered Rukia’s body in a number of places, then dissipated.

 _“The water returns to the ocean. May the waves shield you from the storm. God of forgetfulness be your guide and erase the path behind you.”_ Ito’s hand touched Rukia’s forehead on the screen and a sickly purple and green glow spread from his finger. _“The spell is complete,”_ he said quietly.

 _“Very good.”_ The second figure leaned closer to Rukia, although it did not touch her. _“The procedure was successful.”_ The figure pulled something from a pocket and then snapped its fingers; a chartreuse ribbon formed around Rukia’s sealed zanpakutō and tightened before fading into invisibility. _“Now the other one.”_

The two figures moved to Ichigo’s bed and repeated the procedure, but when the chartreuse ribbon formed around Zangetsu it shuddered and frayed at the edges before fading. _“That will have to do. He won’t be here for much longer anyway.”_

The memory-footage paused. “Was that the kido spell you expected?” Yoruichi asked in the silence.

Urahara nodded briefly. From the corner of his good eye he saw Ichigo and Rukia’s hands brush against one another before they pulled back, and he returned to the beginning of the memories with the push of a button. “The binding of the zanpakutō is kido as well; I’m not familiar with it at all. I’m surprised that Zangetsu was able to break it,” he commented.

“Who applied the binding, though?” Ichigo demanded. “Why can’t we see them?”

“Patience, Ichigo. I haven’t finished analyzing yet,” Urahara chided. He tapped several more keys, and some of the shadows hiding the second figure from view lightened. The outlines of a person appeared, not overly tall but broad and bulky. “Hmm. That does look familiar, doesn’t it?” Urahara mused. He tapped several more keys, but the image did not change.

While Urahara tapped away at his computer, bringing up the second memory and manipulating it, Rukia reached for one of the books that Byakuya had brought with him. “Perhaps we can help by reading these?” she suggested. Her hand had barely touched the cover of the top book before Urahara’s cane was in the way.

“I think not, Kuchiki-san,” Urahara said politely, but his eye was shadowed. “Leave that to me.” The image on the computer screen was still distorted, and he turned in his chair. “The red string.”

Ichigo and Rukia turned their heads to look at Urahara simultaneously. “What?” Rukia finally asked.

But it was Byakuya who answered. “We have seen the red string that surrounds you.” As if his words had summoned it, the string appeared again, still tangled and knotted. “The person who worked with Ito must have seen it as well.”

“You mean like the red thread from the old stories? The thread that connects people who should be married?” Ichigo asked. He reached out to touch it, but the thread danced just outside of his grasp.

“It is a little deeper than that,” Urahara allowed. “It means that you and Rukia have always been connected by fate. But this string is tangled and frayed.” He frowned beneath his striped hat. “Something has caused this damage, and we must find a way to undo it as soon as possible.”

“What happens if we don’t?” Rukia kept her voice steady, but her violet eyes looked intently at Urahara.

“Ah, well…if we don’t, Kuchiki-san, I am sorry to say that if the thread breaks you will probably both die.”

It was the wrong thing to say, even if it was true. Zangetsu roared within Ichigo’s inner world, and he bent double from the pain of trying to contain it. **I’LL KILL HIM!**

Rukia stared at Ichigo. “Ichigo, you have to—you have to calm him down.” Her reiatsu blanketed him, cold against his heat, but still she heard Zangetsu’s roar in her own world. “How is this happening?” she whispered.

It was, as always, Byakuya who stayed calm despite the waves of power buffeting him. “How do we fix it, Urahara?” he asked.

**KILL HIM!**

“Zangetsu, we don’t even know who it is,” Rukia chided loudly.

Urahara carefully placed the book in his hands back down. “We must unknot the tangles that were created, and free you from the bindings that were placed on you falsely. Unfortunately, without knowing who did this, that will prove difficult.” He took his hat off once more and stared at the pair of shinigami. “Leave it with me a few days, Kurosaki, Kuchiki.”

“A few days? What if the thread breaks before then? What if Rukia dies?” Ichigo asked in a shout.

“Kurosaki Ichigo. You will join Rukia and I at the manor, and you will return here when Urahara has an answer.” Byakuya’s voice was implacable.

“Nii-sama,” Rukia murmured.

“Come, Rukia. Kurosaki.” Byakuya swept through the door of the lab and Rukia followed, pulling Ichigo along with her. They emerged into mid-afternoon light; more time had passed than it seemed.

In silence, the two Shinigami and the former substitute flash-stepped to the Kuchiki manor. “Rukia will show you to our guest quarters,” Byakuya announced. “I have business to take care of.” He stepped through a pair of open shoji doors and shut them behind him.

“I haven’t even told my division what’s going on,” Rukia said quietly when they were alone.

Ichigo shrugged uneasily. “D’you want to show me to these guest quarters and then go check on them?” he asked. “I don’t exactly need to be supervised.”

Rukia snorted. “Apparently you do, without me around you tried to invade Soul Society again.” The joke fell flat; Ichigo just stared down at her, eyes hooded and dark, and Rukia didn’t look away.

Their silent conversation was broken when a manor servant approached and nervously asked if they needed assistance; Rukia waved the servant away and led Ichigo through the manor until they reached a series of rooms overlooking the inner courtyard. “Here,” she said, and stepped inside a small but well-appointed room covered in tatami mats. “There is a washroom through that door, and if you need anything, you can summon a servant with a bell.”

“Thanks, Rukia.” There was a sword stand in one corner, and Ichigo reluctantly removed his blades from his back and hip, then placed both in the stand. He turned to say something else, but the giggle of a small child interrupted him.

“Kaasan!” Ichika ran into the room and leapt for her mother. Rukia held her arms out and embraced her daughter tightly, black hair falling into her face and hiding her expression.

“Shouldn’t you be with your tutor?” Rukia asked finally. She smoothed back Ichika’s hair.

“One of the servants told us that you were here, and Nagata-sensei let me take a break to say hello.” Ichika seemed to notice that Ichigo was in the room, suddenly, and she let go of her mother to bow politely. “Hello, Kurosaki-san.”

“Hi Ichika,” Ichigo greeted. In the late afternoon light, Ichika didn’t look like Renji at all, except for her hair.

“I need to get Kurosaki-san settled in,” Rukia was explaining as Ichigo stared at her daughter. “Go back to Nagata-sensei now, and thank him for giving you a break.”

Ichigo watched as Ichika dashed away. _That reiryoku…she doesn’t feel at all like Renji. She feels…she feels like…!_ “Rukia,” he began.

Rukia straightened up to look at Ichigo. Then they were both falling.


	7. The Creation of a Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo learns the truth, and Rukia remembers a dark time of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to leave two notes here before you read this chapter. The first is that this chapter contains some of those "crack elements treated seriously" that I mention in the tags. The second is that this chapter contains non-graphic descriptions of childbirth. An additional note follows at the end.

This time, instead of a flooded city, Ichigo and Rukia landed in a garden. Unfortunately, the garden was covered in snow: they were in the middle of a blizzard. Rukia regained her footing first and hauled up Ichigo after her.

“I take it this is _your_ inner world?” Ichigo shouted to be heard over the howling winds. “Does it always look like this?”

“It has for the last decade, Kurosaki-san.” Sode no Shirayuki appeared out of the storm, Zangetsu beside her.

 **“Snow lady, when I told the King to fix it, I didn’t mean that we should freeze to death instead of drowning,”** he complained.

“Why are we here?” Rukia asked.

Shirayuki sighed, and pointed at a squat, shadowed shape that was barely visible through the swirling snow. “Perhaps we can shelter from the snow?” she suggested. She started walking, practically gliding over the snow and ice.

Obediently, her fellow zanpakutō spirit followed, the snow crunching heavily beneath his sandaled feet. Ichigo and Rukia trailed after them, and when Rukia started to shiver Ichigo wrapped an arm over her shoulders.

The shape turned out to be a small cabin, and though it wasn’t exactly toasty warm, once Ichigo shut the door behind him at least it was quieter.

“Now then,” Shirayuki said quietly. “You have met Ichika twice now, Kurosaki-san.”

Ichigo’s heart started to beat faster. “Yes,” he agreed.

“You know nothing of how Shinigami have children, do you?”

Ichigo’s head shot up, and Rukia’s eyes focused on the zanpakutō as well. “The same as humans, I suppose. Goat Chin and Kaasan had my sisters and I the normal way, as far as I know.”

“Pregnancy for a Shinigami is…longer,” Rukia said slowly. “Because we age so slowly, the…the fetus takes longer to grow than a human does. Nearly eighteen months.”

Ichigo tore his gaze from Shirayuki and stared at Rukia. “Rukia.” Her eyes met his. “Rukia, how old is Ichika?”

“She’s eight,” Rukia said. “I told you that last week.”

“Ichika-chan will be nine in three months,” Shirayuki corrected.

Ichigo’s eyes widened and he looked first at Shirayuki, then at Rukia, who looked just as shocked as he did. “She’s not Renji’s,” he breathed. “She’s…”

**“She’s yours, King. S’why she’s the little princess.”**

Ichigo’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks and he stared down at Rukia. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he shouted. Rukia flinched back from him – as she had so very rarely in the more than 12 years they’d known one another. Ichigo’s eyes filled with guilt, and he pulled away from her.

“I didn’t…” Rukia’s eyes were shadowed, the pupils blown wide. She shivered convulsively, and the wind outside of the tiny cabin grew much stronger. It howled at the door and seeped in through the single window in the wall.

“Because she didn’t know, Kurosaki-san.” The words were stern, but Shirayuki’s face softened. “When the Fourth Division realized that Rukia was pregnant, she was not yet showing. Steps…were taken, to ensure that Rukia was married before the birth. And her memory was manipulated so that she did not realize she was pregnant so soon.”

“So Byakuya knew, then?” Ichigo growled. Shirayuki raised her hands in a gesture of uncertainty.

Rukia’s hands threaded into her hair as she curled in on herself. “Renji was…the Kuchiki clan insisted that I marry, Nii-sama told me. He offered Renji to spare me being married to someone I didn’t even know. But no one told me that I was pregnant,” she whispered. “I didn’t find out until much later. How could I not know?” She looked up, and her anguished eyes met Ichigo’s. “How could I not know she is _yours_?”

Ichigo growled, and suddenly he wished – and immediately regretted wishing – that Zangetsu had actually killed the red-headed lieutenant. “ _Someone_ knows. Ichika’s hair…”

“Yes,” Rukia finally said quietly. “Someone…someone must be dyeing it? I don’t…I don’t know. After her birth I was not well.”

Ichigo tensed. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

“Rukia barely left her bed for seventeen months,” Shirayuki explained.

Ichigo’s arm came around Rukia’s shoulders and he pulled her into the shelter of his arms. “Postpartum depression?” he asked quietly.

“I do not know what that is, Kurosaki-san,” Shirayuki said cautiously. “Is that something that women in the world of the living experience?”

“Yeah. It’s…” Ichigo paused, and decided that a simplified explanation was best. “The chemicals in a woman’s body change when she gives birth. Sometimes they don’t go back to their original levels right away. It can cause depression and a lot of other symptoms. I’ve seen it a few times at the clinic, but never…that bad.” His lips found Rukia’s hairline and he whispered into it, “I’m so sorry, Rukia. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Rukia’s body trembled in his arms, but then she straightened and took a deep breath. “I recovered. Everyone was told that it was a very difficult birth. I imagine that my weakness made it easier to claim that Ichika was born so many months later.”

“It’s not weakness. It’s stupid that they left you to suffer, is what it is. What the hell? Even in the world of the living we have treatments, and that’s without kido. Unohana taicho wouldn’t have let you be bedridden for over a _year,_ ” Ichigo insisted. His face was set in a scowl, and his eyes found Zangetsu’s. “Ichika’s the princess,” he said. “You knew the first time we saw her.”

The zanpakutō nodded his agreement. **“She’s _ours_. And whoever did this needs a blade in his throat,”** he hissed. **“Got a lot to answer for, King.”**

Ichigo grunted. His arms tightened around Rukia and he practically covered her with his body as he leaned down over her. “A lot of people have a lot to answer for. How the hell do you not tell a woman she’s pregnant? And then just marry her off? You deserved better than that, Rukia,” he said into her hair.

Rukia and Ichigo came back to themselves still in that embrace. Rukia opened her eyes and flushed deep red; there was a hell butterfly waiting for her. She extricated herself as Ichigo and held a finger out; the butterfly landed and she listened to its message.

“That was Sentarō,” she explained when the butterfly had disappeared. “Apparently everything is fine in the Thirteenth.” Still, Rukia stepped away from Ichigo and toward the door of the guest room. “You should get some rest. I am sure that whatever Urahara has planned for tomorrow, we will both need all our strength.”

“Rukia…” Ichigo’s voice was pleading.

“Later, Ichigo. We’ll talk about it later.” She was gone before Ichigo could object.

Despite Sentarō’s message, Rukia returned to her division. Rather than risk encountering her officers, however, she took the path to the Ugendo quarters. Following Ukitake’s death, Rukia had ordered that the building be kept clean. Rukia and Kotetsu Kiyone had turned it into something of a shrine for Ukitake, before Kiyone transferred to the Fourth Division. In the beginning, shinigami who knew Ukitake could be seen crowding into the small building to pray at the shrine.

But time moved on, and with it so did most of the shinigami. Now, Rukia and Sentarō were the only members of the Thirteenth who visited on a regular basis. Rukia occasionally thought about moving the shrine to a more central part of the division grounds and turning the Ugendo into something else, but without a captain to requisition the appropriate budget and authorize a major project, her hands had been tied.

There was no one in the Ugendo, and Rukia shut the door behind her to discourage visitors. She turned first to the butsudan: a large cabinet within which sat a picture of Ukitake. Offerings and sticks of incense were scattered on the lower shelves, some of them looking quite old. Rukia took a moment to tidy the shrine, removing the burned-out incense and rotted food offerings and disposing of them. She lit two new sticks of incense and placed them upright in one of the holders, then knelt before the shrine.

The past week had been one of the busiest in the last several years, and Rukia relished the moment of quiet to begin to sort out her thoughts. Instead, a memory from nearly nine years ago resurfaced, and Rukia closed her eyes as it washed over her.

_Eight years and seven months ago – Kuchiki Manor_

Deprived of comfortable sleep due to her severely distended abdomen, Rukia frequently spent at least part of the night pacing quietly back and forth in her bedroom, her steps muffled by the tatami mats. Previously her walking involved traversing the gardens within the manor, but she’d stopped that when one of the servants admitted that Rukia’s midnight wanderings made everyone nervous.

Her labor began as it did for countless women: with cramping in her belly. Rukia kept pacing, although she rubbed her back with one small hand to ease her muscle soreness. She had been experiencing mild cramps for a few days, something that the Fourth Division called false contractions. They added to her discomfort but the breathing that Kiyone taught her helped.

Liquid splashed onto the mats, and Rukia’s pacing came to a halt. Her cheeks flared red with embarrassment before a contraction sent pain arcing through her body and her brain caught up: the contractions were real this time. She took a deep breath and slid open the door of her bedroom; she needed to summon a hell butterfly and get help.

There was a servant just outside her door, kneeling on the ground and half-asleep; Rukia nearly stumbled over her in the dark. “Oh! Kuchiki-sama!” the small, dark-haired woman exclaimed quietly and leapt to her feet. “Is it time?”

Rukia backed up from the woman she’d nearly stepped on and instead stumbled against the nearest wall, her body overcompensating for the sudden movement of the extra weight she had never gotten used to carrying. “Y-yes,” she finally said, as the servant bowed respectfully. Rukia didn’t recognize her, but then, she had largely stayed in her rooms for the past several days and had only come to the manor once her advanced pregnancy made it impossible to complete even paperwork for the Thirteenth. “Yes, it’s time,” she said. “The Fourth Division will need to be notified.”

“Yes, Kuchiki-sama! I will do so immediately!” The servant bowed again and darted away. Rukia suppressed a groan of pain at another contraction, and slowly walked back into her room. Moonlight filtered in from a single window high on the wall; it was the middle of the night. Rukia returned to her pacing and occasional deep breathing as she waited for members of the Fourth to arrive.

It seemed to take forever. The angle of the moonlight spilling into her bedroom changed significantly as she waited. When two members of the Fourth arrived, she recognized neither of their faces. Neither Kiyone nor Hanatarō were there even though they’d promised that at least one of them would attend the birth. 

Still, they were healers, and as Rukia’s labor began in earnest she was grateful for their help. It was well past dawn before her child was delivered and Rukia could collapse, exhausted and feeling as though she’d been torn in half, upon her futon. A baby’s cry filled the room, and Rukia smiled. “Can I hold her?” she managed to ask.

“Soon, Kuchiki-sama,” came the reply.

But it was a long time indeed before Rukia could hold her child: something went _wrong_ , suddenly, as Rukia groaned in pain and blood spilled onto the tatami mats. The baby was passed to the Kuchiki servant while the two members of the Fourth worked feverishly using both kido and the far more mundane tools of their trade. The door to her bedroom pushed open and two more members of the Fourth appeared in the doorway. They, too, worked quickly around her. Rukia, mercifully, lost consciousness.

When she awoke again, she was in an elevated bed and another member of the Fourth was by her side. The shinigami quickly helped as Rukia struggled to sit up. “Kuchiki-sama! We were so worried, we almost lost you!”

Rukia winced at the other woman’s volume but accepted a glass of water. “How long was I out?” she asked after taking a slow sip. “Is…is the baby okay?”

“Just since this morning. And the baby is fine – would you like to see her?”

Something rose up inside of Rukia, but she firmed her lips. “Yes, please.”

When the woman placed the infant in her arms, Rukia struggled to smile down at the tiny being. They’d wrapped the child in white and covered her head. “She’s… she’s so tiny,” Rukia whispered. “I felt so enormous, I thought she’d be bigger.”

The child’s eyes opened. They were nearly the exact same color as Rukia’s, if a little lighter. Rukia pushed back the fabric covering her head; the child’s crown held the first beginnings of hair, stubbled and oddly pale. Something twisted in Rukia’s chest and tears ran down her cheeks unbidden. A sob stuck in her throat.

“Aa – ah, Kuchiki-sama, don’t cry! This is a happy day!” The shinigami lifted the baby from her arms when Rukia struggled to hold on and placed her in a nearby bassinet before returning with tissues.

But Rukia was inconsolable, and she stayed inside, barely responsive to her brother or his servants. Ichika – what she’d named the girl in a moment of clarity – struggled to latch, and eventually Byakuya hired a wet nurse to assist.

Weeks and then months passed in a blur of exhaustion and anxiety. Rukia ate little and slept for what seemed like days at a time. She struggled to keep her head above the waves of sadness that swamped her and feared touching Ichika lest she might hurt her.

Renji was allowed to visit some months later and presented with the child under Byakuya’s watchful eye. By that time, the girl’s hair had darkened and was obviously the same color as Renji’s. But his attempts to speak with Rukia were rebuffed; she only turned away and pretended to be asleep until the redheaded shinigami left.

It was seventeen months before Rukia returned to the Thirteenth Division barracks.

Rukia roused herself from her memories with a start. _The servant_ , she thought as she stared at Ukitake’s shrine. She remembered – the servant had disappeared fifteen months after Ichika’s birth. Rukia had started to get better after that. “How strange,” she murmured.

Ichigo cleaned himself up, washing himself of blood – most of it wasn’t his – and dressing in a plain shihakusho helpfully left by one of the servants. He slept briefly, but nightmares dogged him and so eventually he rose and sat in the gardens just outside of his quarters for a time, trying to quiet the anxiety and hurt inside of him.

Ichika was _his_. His daughter with Rukia. While he’d been dating Orihime and letting her try to fill the gaping hole in his being that he hadn’t even admitted existed, Rukia had been pregnant with his _child_. She had suffered because of him. Ichigo had never wanted to hurt her, had wanted her to be happy – and instead he’d only added to her pain. His head fell into his hands.

 **You didn’t know** , Zangetsu reminded, and the hiss wasn’t unsympathetic. Ichigo groaned. His restored memories, his restored _feelings_ , sat uneasily inside of him. But he was married to Orihime. He had a child with her, too.

**Do you?**

Ichigo barked a laugh at that. _You think the woman who’s been in love with me since I was fifteen would cheat?_ he asked.

 **More like obsession than love,** Zangetsu snorted. **I guess not. Kid smells more like her than you, though.**

Ichigo sensed when Byakuya returned to the manor just as the sun was setting. Rukia was still in the Thirteenth. He rose from his seat and made his way to Byakuya’s office, standing respectfully in the doorway until the older man looked up.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” he greeted. If Byakuya wondered why Ichigo was there, he didn’t let on.

Ichigo stepped further into the room and sat at a nod from Byakuya. The two sat in silence for several minutes, Byakuya calmly writing, but then Ichigo asked carefully, “Did you know?”

“I know many things. You will have to be more specific.”

Ichigo stifled a sigh and reminded himself that Byakuya had opened his home to him, had believed him immediately, and was clearly trying to help. “Did you know about Ichika?”

Byakuya’s hand stilled, calligraphy brush dripping a splatter of ink onto the paper beneath. “I know that she is older than the official records state. However, I thought my sister merely…dallied with someone. When the child was born, I thought she was Renji’s.” He realized that the brush was still dripping ink and set it down. “I realized only this morning that her reiryoku feels like yours.”

Ichigo’s shoulders slumped. “I hoped you didn’t know,” he admitted. “But…Rukia said that the Kuchiki elders pressured you to marry her off.”

“Hn. Someone in the Fourth Division at the time had loose lips,” Byakuya explained. “They reported the situation to one of the elders. I did not want Rukia to suffer any embarrassment. Renji was a safe choice, and when Ichika was born I thought he was the _right_ choice.” He looked up. “If I had known it was you, Kurosaki, my decision would have been much different.”

Ichigo scowled. “If _I_ had known it was me, I—" He stared at Byakuya. _I would have asked Rukia to marry me. I would have asked for your blessing. Ichika would have her father._ His scowl deepened. _You’re married_ , he reminded himself. _And you spent one night with Rukia ten years ago. She probably doesn’t feel the same way anymore. You **shouldn’t** feel the same way anymore._

**For fuck’s sake, King, I’m drowning in here.**

“Ichigo.” Byakuya’s tone was oddly sympathetic – and he’d called Ichigo by his first name. “The most important thing right now is finding a way forward.” 

Ichigo nodded briefly and stood, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one. “Thank you, Byakuya.” His head bowed and he left the way he had come in.

Byakuya picked his calligraphy brush back up. The ink was starting to dry, so he cleaned it carefully and then dipped it in his ink pot. And if his hand shook ever so slightly, well, that was between him and the brush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no claim to having more than a layman's understanding of postpartum depression, the condition that Ichigo thinks Rukia may have suffered from after the birth of Ichika. And I don't make the claim of thinking that it just consists of laying in bed. Remember that Byakuya and Urahara both think Rukia's memories may have been manipulated postpartum.


	8. In Karakura (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Karakura, Orihime tries to find out where, and why, Ichigo ran off.

Orihime washed the dishes in the sink and wondered where her husband was. Ichigo had been acting strangely since their party just over a week ago. He’d seemed to have a good time – laughing with their friends, keeping Keigo away from his sisters. But then he’d started having nightmares. He’d pushed her away when she was just trying to _help_ him. And two nights ago, he’d come into their room, looked for something in the nightstand, and then just…vanished. She knew he hadn’t left her, _Ichigo would never do that_ , she told herself. But she couldn’t help but think that it was Rukia and Renji’s appearance that had sparked his strange pattern of behavior.

His sudden disappearance had thrown the clinic into disarray. Yuzu and Karin had tied up the clinic’s phone lines for two days, taking turns calling patients and canceling appointments. The clinic doors had a “closed” sign on them.

Orihime considered making a police report. What if something had happened to him? _What was he looking for, two nights ago?_

The dishes done and set into the drying rack, Orihime removed her frilly blue apron and walked upstairs to her bedroom. She opened the top drawer of the wooden nightstand on Ichigo’s side of the bed. The bed was the same one that Ichigo’s father had been using before he disappeared; the nightstands were the same as well. Orihime trailed a finger over the particle board surface. She’d talked to Ichigo, once or twice, about buying new furniture, but medical school was expensive.

Ichigo wasn’t someone who kept a lot of clutter around, and the nightstand was no different: it held just a few coins, a stick of lip balm with a faded yellow sticker, and his ID from when he’d been a medical student. Orihime shut the drawer and walked back downstairs. She checked her watch; Kazui wasn’t due to be home from his play date for another two hours.

So Orihime picked up her cell phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Kurosaki-san?” His low, gentle voice was surprised; Orihime supposed that she’d never called him at work.

“Ishida-kun,” Orihime began. “I am sorry to call so suddenly like this.”

“It’s fine, of course. Is something wrong?”

“Ah…” Embarrassment rose in her, suddenly. How was she supposed to tell someone, even someone so close to her as Ishida-kun, that she’d somehow misplaced her husband?

“Yes, Kurosaki-san?” his voice prodded through the speaker.

“Ah! Ishida-kun, have you seen Ichigo?”

Across town, Ishida Uryuu took the phone away from his ear and stared at it until Orihime’s high voice echoed, “Ishida-kun?” a third time.

“Is he missing, Kurosaki-san?” Uryuu finally asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“He disappeared two days ago.”

Uryuu stared at the phone again. “Have you spoken to anyone at Urahara’s? Or made a missing persons report to the police?”

“Ah…well, no, I haven’t. I thought perhaps he was covering a shift at your hospital and forgot to tell me. Or perhaps he’s been abducted by time-traveling robots!” The voice on the other end of the line pitched higher suddenly, the way it used to whenever Orihime said something outlandish.

Uryuu gamely stifled his snort. “Kurosaki-san is not working at the hospital today,” he replied seriously. “He hasn’t covered a shift here in three months.”

“Oh! I thought…” There was a long pause on the end of the line before Orihime said, “Well…I’ll go to the shoten first, thank you, Ishida-kun.”

“Will you be alright, Kurosaki-san?” Uryuu asked tentatively.

“Oh, yes, yes! Perhaps he was just visiting Urahara and got caught up! Thank you for your help, Ishida-kun!” Orihime exclaimed cheerfully. She hung up before Uryuu could reply. He sighed and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

“What have you gotten yourself into now, Kurosaki?” he mumbled under his breath and looked down at his cell phone suspiciously. Then he slid it into the pocket of his trousers before stepping inside the exam room where his next patient waited.

In the Kurosaki home, Orihime quickly found her purse and keys. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals at the doorway and stepped outside, locking the door behind her. The sun beat down as Orihime took off for the shoten. She hadn’t visited in years (had, in fact, visited only once after the war) but her feet still knew the way.

Little had changed about the shop in the years since Orihime had last seen it. It still looked just a touch dilapidated and deserted, as if it received few customers. The sign overhead was still the same, if a little dustier than it had been a decade ago. And although it was mid-afternoon, the doors were shut tightly. Orihime approached the shop anyway and knocked lightly on the wooden frame of the door. She pressed her face against the glass, trying to see inside.

After a few minutes, the door slid open wide enough for Tessai to stick his head out. Most of his body was blocked by the shop door, but Orihime could see that he wasn’t wearing the apron he ordinarily wore. Instead he’d donned a collared, dark blue shirt.

“Inoue-san? I’m afraid the shop is closed today,” he explained. “But it is good to see you after so long. You’re looking well.”

Orihime smiled up at the much taller shinigami, whose gigai had gained a few gray hairs. “It’s good to see you too, Tessai-san. Ah, I’m not here to shop. Ichigo has…well, ah, he disappeared two days ago and I was hoping that perhaps he’d been here.”

Tessai frowned, his mustache drooping downwards with the motion. “Yes, he was here a few nights ago. He used our senkaimon to enter Soul Society.”

“O-oh! He didn’t mention that he was making a trip. I suppose it must have been something last-minute.” She was supposed to _know_ that Ichigo was gone from the world of the living, wasn’t she? Wasn’t that something that Orihime should have _felt_?

Tessai’s expression turned cautious. “Yes, I do think it was last-minute,” he said softly.

Orihime’s eyes glistened, but then she plastered a smile on her lips. “Thank you, Tessai-san! I’m sure he will be back soon,” Orihime chirped with false cheer.

“Of course, Inoue-san. Have a good day.” Orihime waved to the older man as he slid the door shut, and then turned back toward the clinic. She needed to be home in time to make Kazui his afternoon snack. The walk back seemed longer even though it was the same distance; occasionally she looked back, as though Ichigo might appear out of nowhere, returned from his sudden trip to the Soul Society.

He didn’t, though, and when his classmate’s mother dropped Kazui off at home, Orihime was waiting with a sliced banana and fresh blueberries. They sat down at the table together, and she sipped from a glass of pale green melon soda as her son ate his fruit.

Then he asked, “Where’s tou-san? The clinic’s all dark.”

Orihime plastered a smile on her face as she replied, “He had to take a last-minute trip to Soul Society, where the Abarais live.”

At that, Kazui straightened up in his chair. “Why’s he going there? Do you think he’ll see Ichika?”

She hid a grimace behind her glass. “He might see her. Why don’t you tell me how your play date went?” Orihime asked instead of answering his first question. After all – she didn’t have an answer.

Much later, the doorbell rang and Yuzu, still in her cooking apron, ran to answer it. “Oh! Uryuu,” she greeted. The Quincy bowed to Yuzu, a lost look in his eyes. His white coat was draped over one arm and the shirt he wore was just a little rumpled. His hair fell just below his ears, and some of it stood up in the back, as though he’d been running his hand through it. “Would you like to come in?”

Uryuu pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Ah, Yuzu. Thank you.” He stepped inside and removed his shoes, pushing them up against the wall. “I was hoping to speak with Kuro—er, Orihime. Is she here?”

“Ishida-kun!” Orihime called. She came out of the dining area holding a pair of shallow bowls.

“Ah, Kurosaki-san,” Ishida greeted. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting dinner, but after your call this afternoon I was concerned.”

His words cracked the cheerful mask on Orihime’s face momentarily and her eyes filled with worry, but as he’d seen her do any number of times before, Orihime quickly smiled again. “Dinner’s almost ready, Ishida-kun. Why don’t you eat with us, and we can talk about it after?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Ishida insisted quietly, but Yuzu was still there, and she just smiled at them.

“Of course you’re not imposing! I always make too much.” She darted off before Uryuu could say any more, so he hung his coat on the rack by the door and set his bag down.

He helped Orihime finish setting the table, arranging white paper napkins alongside five white bowls. Orihime filled glasses with ice water while Yuzu brought in first an enormous pot of cold noodles, then small platters of thinly-sliced vegetables, cold shrimp, and egg crepe. Karin followed with a jar filled to the brim with dark brown liquid, a platter of sliced chicken katsu, and tongs.

Finally, Orihime retrieved Kazui from his room and they all sat down to eat.

“Hiyashi chuka,” Yuzu explained cheerfully when Kazui demanded to know what dinner was. “It’s so hot outside, I wanted to serve something cooling.” She put a small pile of noodles on his plate and, at the child’s direction, added sliced tomatoes, peppers, and cucumber. “See? Then you add the dressing. It’s just like ramen, but cold!”

Uryuu didn’t bring up Ichigo’s disappearance during dinner, and neither did anyone else. But Karin and Yuzu kept shooting him concerned looks and then looking at Orihime meaningfully. Chopsticks scraped lightly on bowls and ice cracked in cold water, shockingly loud in the silence of the Kurosaki home.

“How are things at the hospital?” Yuzu finally asked.

“The new residents are finally settling in. And we have some new diagnostic machines coming that should improve our standard of care,” Uryuu explained.

“That’s great! When will they arrive at the hospital?” Yuzu asked.

“Sometime in the next few weeks. I’ll talk with Kuro—” Uryuu cut himself off and coughed into his hand. “I’ll be speaking with other clinics about referring patients to us when necessary,” he corrected himself. But the damage was done, and the tense mood returned to the dinner table.

Later, after Uryuu helped Yuzu clean up, he followed Orihime into the small backyard behind the Kurosaki house. He’d turned down her offer of a cold beer, and instead sipped at another glass of ice water. They sat in silence for a time, looking up at the sky. “Did you see Urahara-san?” he finally asked.

Orihime sighed quietly. “He wasn’t there, and the shop was closed. Tessai came to the door and said that Ichigo used Urahara’s Senkaimon to travel to Soul Society two days ago. I think Urahara must be in Soul Society too. Yoruichi, too – she always follows him.”

Uryuu sat up straight. “Well, at least you know where he is now,” he pointed out. “Did Tessai say why? I don’t think Ichigo’s been back to Soul Society since the war.”

“He hasn’t. I don’t know what would make him go back _now,_ ” Orihime complained.

Uryuu glanced in her direction, although he didn’t look her in the eye. “Didn’t Rukia and Renji come visit last week? I’m sorry I couldn’t join all of you.”

“Ah, yes – it was a nice visit. Their daughter, Ichika, and Kazui get along very well.”

He mouthed the word – Ichika – and kept his eyes on her until Orihime continued, “But neither of them said anything about Ichigo visiting, and he left in the middle of the night without a word.” Orihime frowned up at the sky. “He started having nightmares after their visit, though.”

“Nightmares?”

She nodded once. “I think they were about the war.”

Ishida took another long sip of water. This late into July it was still hot at night, and condensation dripped down the outside of the glass. “He _just_ started having nightmares?” he probed.

“Ah, well,” Orihime’s cheeks flamed red in the dim light from the outdoor lantern above their heads. “You know what training to be a doctor is like, Ishida-kun. Ichigo has always been so courteous, he would get home very late and sleep on the couch so that he didn’t wake me. Even now he doesn’t like to keep me up if he can’t sleep.”

Uryuu’s cheeks flushed in shared embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “I see. Yes, that is courteous of him,” he agreed in a voice that sounded close to normal.

Orihime sensed something in his tone, though, and finally looked at him. “I can’t really blame him for having nightmares,” she defended.

“Of course not, Kurosaki-san,” Ishida soothed. “I’m sure we all have them from time to time.”

“Why don’t you call me Orihime?” she asked suddenly.

Ishida looked away from her, his cheeks flushing again. He took a gulp of water to stall, but the glass was empty after his first swallow. “It’s a reminder,” he finally said. She just looked puzzled. Ishida stood, glass still in hand. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to forget that you are married. Excuse me, I should really be getting home.”

Orihime opened her mouth to respond, but Uryuu had already stepped back inside. He was gone before she could follow him, leaving only a glass in the sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was on the shorter side, but seemed to end in a good place.
> 
> IchiRuki Week starts in the Seireitei Discord on October 24, and I'll be posting new fic daily focused on our star-crossed soulmates. Interested in participating? Join in using the prompts [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SeireiteiDiscordIRweek)


	9. A Clearer Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and Rukia train together, knowing that they may need to fight whoever has interfered with their fates. Urahara identifies the culprit. And Rukia confronts Renji, who has finally woken up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sharing a longer chapter this time, to make up for such a short chapter last week. Thanks for reading!

Ichigo woke early from the best night’s sleep he’d had since before he’d started university. A small finger, attached to an equally small hand, was poking his cheek. His eyes squinted open at Ichika, who was the owner of the hand. Apparently satisfied that he’d woken up, Ichika took her hand away and sat cross-legged on the floor next to his futon. “You feel familiar,” she announced.

It was too early for this conversation, Ichigo decided immediately, but he sat up anyway and ran a hand through his hair. It was flattened on one side. “We’ve met a couple of times,” he reminded the child. “Including yesterday.”

Ichika sniffed. “I guess. Feels like more than that.” Then she brightened and, in the way that most young children did, abruptly changed the subject. “Want to see my asauchi?”

Ichigo found himself grinning. “Yeah, sure. You don’t know its name yet, do you?” He wrapped his arms around his knees as Ichika leapt to her feet.

The tiny apprentice put one hand to the hilt of her asauchi and unsheathed it expertly. She held it in front of her, the flat of the blade resting on her free palm, with utmost care. “No. I haven’t learned her name yet, but sometimes I hear someone in my sleep.” The sword was a relatively short wakizashi, although given how tall Ichika was already, Ichigo expected that her true zanpakutō would be longer. The hilt was covered in pure white rayskin, with a black silk tsuka-ito. Peeking through the black silk was a silver menuki of a crescent moon.

“It’s a very nice sword,” Ichigo complimented.

Ichika beamed and turned the blade so that Ichigo could see the other side of the hilt. “There’s another menuki on this side, see?” she pointed out. Further up the hilt was a sun, its center blackened. Ichika sheathed her blade quickly. “I can’t wait to see what she looks like. Kaasan has the prettiest zanpakutō in Soul Society, everyone says so. And Tousan’s is really cool!”

Ichigo barely held back his wince when Ichika referred to Renji. “Yeah, your mom’s zanpakutō is beautiful,” he chose to say instead. “Have you ever seen her bankai?”

Ichika shook her head quickly. “She says it’s really dangerous and she can only use it in a _really big_ emergency,” she explained. “Have _you_ seen it?”

“Just once. She looks like the moon princess and makes the air around her so cold that you’d freeze in an instant. Her zanpakutō turns to ice and her shihakusho becomes a white kimono, like the kind you’d see in a fairy tale.”

Of course, then Ichika asked who the moon princess was. And Ichigo found himself trying to remember the old fairytale that his mother had told him once, many years ago. The story was a long one and he found himself skipping some of the details – he was sure that Ichika’s tutor would come looking for her soon enough.

It was Rukia who found them as Ichigo explained, “The people of the Moon came for the princess, and she realized that she needed to go with them. She left a letter for her parents, and for the Emperor who had fallen in love with her. With the letter for the Emperor was a little bottle of the elixir of immortality. Then she went back to the Moon.

“The Emperor was devastated by the letter and wrote one in reply. He asked his men to take the letter and the elixir of immortality to the tallest mountain and burn them both, hoping that the message would reach her.”

Ichika squirmed in her cross-legged position. “Why would the Emperor burn the elixir? Wouldn’t he want to live forever?”

Ichigo had felt Rukia’s approach, and he looked up, meeting her eyes as he spoke. “The Emperor didn’t want to live forever without the princess he loved.”

“That’s _dumb_ ,” Ichika said flatly, and leapt up from her seat. “The princess should have taken the Emperor with her to the Moon.”

“Perhaps she should have,” Ichigo agreed quietly. His eyes were still watching Rukia. The petite captain’s eyes were glistening.

“What happened to the Emperor after that?”

Ichigo scratched his head lightly. “Well…I don’t actually know. The story my mom told me ended after the Emperor’s warriors burned the letter and the elixir.”

“Did his message get to the princess?”

“I’m sure it did,” Rukia said from her position in the doorway. “But you’re both late for breakfast.”

“Kaasan!” Ichika grabbed her mother around the waist and hugged her tightly. “Kurosaki-san tells good stories.”

“He does,” Rukia said, laughter in her voice, “But you’re still late for breakfast.”

Ichigo was staring at them both, something soft and broken in his eyes, but he smiled when Ichika looked at him. “You should get a head start,” he advised. “I need to dress, or your uncle will send his senbonzakura after me for coming to breakfast in _jinbei_.”

Ichika let go of her mother and leapt away, running for the dining room.

“What made you tell her that story?” Rukia asked, as she slid the door shut. Ichigo stood and rolled up his futon and pillow while she watched.

“She asked what your bankai looks like, and I told her that you looked like the moon princess,” Ichigo explained, his cheeks flushing slightly. There was another set of shihakusho atop the nightstand, and he picked those up, glancing back at Rukia. “She showed me her asauchi. It looks…”

Rukia gave him a rueful smile. “I know. She shows it to everyone.”

Ichigo nodded. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he said, and stepped into the washroom. Rukia was still there when he returned, freshly bathed and clad in clean clothes. They walked in silence to the dining room, where Ichika was already impatiently waiting across from Byakuya to start breakfast.

After breakfast, Ichika’s tutor collected her and Byakuya swept away with no more than a brief nod.

“I think we should spend some time training today,” Rukia advised. “Other than the other night, you haven’t used your blades in years. And that was mostly Zangetsu.”

“You think we’ll stand a chance fighting whoever did this?” Ichigo looked skeptical. “Or that we’ll even find him to do it? He was able to keep this thing going for a decade.”

“You killed the King of the Quincy and defeated Aizen,” Rukia pointed out, “And that was before you turned twenty.”

“Che. Fine, let’s train, then.”

They stopped by Ichigo’s guest quarters to retrieve his zanpakutō, and used shunpo to travel to the Thirteenth Division training grounds. Several dozen division members were already hard at work, led by Sentarō, but Rukia led Ichigo to a smaller, separate plot of land that was hidden from the main grounds by a high wall. “Shikai only,” Rukia commanded. She took a moment to pull her hair up, binding it in a bun with a tie. She looked younger that way, with a few locks of hair falling into her face, and Ichigo swallowed involuntarily at the memory she provoked.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and if his voice was a little rough Rukia didn’t call him on it. He pulled his blades from his back while Rukia unsheathed hers.

“Dance, Sode no Shirayuki,” Rukia intoned, and her blade turned snow white, a ribbon spilling from the hilt and circling her. Ichigo just stared for a moment, until Rukia prodded, “Well?”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I kind of missed seeing her.” And they both ignored the way their cheeks flushed.

Their sparring was slow at first, as Ichigo warmed up muscles he hadn’t used in six years and re-learned Rukia’s fighting style. Soon, though, their blades clashed in earnest and Ichigo was using shunpo to keep up with Rukia’s speed. As her blade and his longer one met again and again, Ichigo grinned: he’d missed this, missed the way they trained together and the way he felt during battle, even if this was only a spar.

“Some no mai, tsukishiro!” Rukia shouted, and Ichigo dodged the towering ice column that shot into the air. He was too slow by a thread: his hakama caught in the ice and he had to pull away, leaving fabric behind as the ice shattered.

“Getsuga tensho,” Ichigo retaliated. He held back the reiatsu that spilled out of him but Rukia was still pushed back from the force of his power, her feet dragging in the packed dirt. Their blades clashed again, and Ichigo pressed his advantage with another grin. He trapped Rukia’s blade between his and for a moment they were locked together. “You’ve gotten stronger,” he grunted when she wouldn’t yield.

“I’ve kept training,” Rukia retorted. She shoved him, breaking free, and danced away on light feet. Her blade pierced the ground four times before she brought it up to point at him. “Tsugi no mai, hakuren!”

Ichigo shot off another getsuga, allowing it to destroy the wave of ice that rushed toward him, and he dodged the rest. Again and again they clashed, until ice covered the training grounds and the ground was cracked in places from the force of Ichigo’s getsuga.

And then Ichigo’s guard slipped. Sode no Shirayuki found his neck, the blade a bare centimeter from breaking skin. Rukia froze and they both heard Shirayuki’s ice-coated voice shout **_No!_** Then Rukia’s muscles could move again and she pulled the blade away, backing up half a step. They stared at one another.

“That was Shirayuki,” Ichigo accused, although there was no anger in his voice. Instead he looked shocked, eyes wide as they looked into hers.

Rukia looked just as shaken as he did. “She’s never stopped my blade before.”

Ichigo rubbed the side of his neck where her ice-cold blade had touched him. “Our zanpakutō are a lot more…uh, active, I guess, than they used to be. And your blade was against my carotid. You’re right, I _am_ rusty,” he said.

“There’s only one solution for that,” Rukia said with a grin. At Ichigo’s nod, she leapt forward again, and Ichigo quickly brought his longer blade up to block her while the shorter aimed for her abdomen. Rukia was too fast and deflected both of his blades, using her strike to push back off of him and land a few steps away.

They sparred uneventfully for a while longer, blades moving faster and faster, until a pained scream from the larger training area on the other side of the wall distracted Rukia. Ichigo couldn’t pull his shorter blade back in time and he swung, trying to avoid cutting her, shouting her name. And then Zangetsu took over with a roar. Black reiatsu poured from Ichigo’s body and wrapped around them both while the blade stopped, leaving Ichigo an inch from Rukia while his reiatsu seethed protectively around her. He was so close that if he dipped his head down, he could kiss her.

Instead, when Zangetsu let go Ichigo sheathed his blades. “We’d better go see what that is,” he suggested. Rukia gave him a look that said they’d be talking about both of their zanpakutō later, but she sealed Sode no Shirayuki and they bounded over the wall together.

Though they’d obviously been training nearby, several of Rukia’s unseated division members looked shocked to see her there. They were gathered around a lanky blonde member of the division. Blood spilled from a wound at her shoulder joint; as Ichigo and Rukia drew closer, Ichigo could see that it was a particularly nasty gash. She was breathing shallowly, eyes wide with pain.

He knelt immediately and ripped the shoulder of her shihakusho open further to examine the wound. “It’s bad,” he reported. “I think an artery’s been nicked.” He tore off the sleeve of his own uniform and used it to apply pressure to the wound. 

“What happened here?” Rukia demanded, and the shinigami who’d been milling around uselessly came to attention. “Has anyone from the Fourth been summoned?” They made a space for her as she approached the wounded woman. Rukia bent down and one hand spilled blue healing kido over the gash while Ichigo kept up the pressure.

“Kuchiki Taicho,” a squat, older Shinigami started, “Hasagawa-san and Yoneda-san were training with their shikai. Hasagawa-san lost control of his blade and injured Yoneda-san. The Fourth Division has not been summoned.”

“Ichigo –”

The shinigami in question nodded before Rukia could get out any more than that and held out his fingertips. A hell butterfly landed on him quickly enough, and Ichigo whispered his message to it. He gave it a boost and the butterfly fluttered off as quickly as it arrived. “I sent it to Kiyone,” he told her when he’d finished. “I let her know that you’re stabilizing Yoneda-san but that we still need assistance.”

Rukia nodded her thanks. “Hasagawa-san, stay here. The rest of you, back to your training,” she ordered.

The shinigami dispersed at her direction, leaving a slender man – a boy, really – to linger awkwardly. His features were delicate and almost childlike, and his dark hair hung into his eyes. He said nothing, not even a ‘yes, taicho’ in response to Rukia. 

Yoneda’s eyes started to clear and her cheeks flushed at the sight of Ichigo and Rukia. “A—Taicho, I’m so sorry, you don’t need to trouble yourself, I’m sure the Fourth can help,” she babbled.

Ichigo frowned down at the woman. “You might have bled out before they got here,” he chided. He lifted the makeshift bandage experimentally, then pushed it back in place and looked at Rukia, who pushed more power into her kido in response.

Later than any of them would have liked, two members of the Fourth Division arrived. “Kuchiki Taicho!” one called, and Rukia lifted her hand away from her patient and stood.

It was Ichigo who explained, “Deep shoulder wound, possible nick to the subclavian artery. She’s lost a lot of blood. I applied physical pressure to the wound and Rukia used kido to stabilize her.”

If the two members of the Fourth were surprised by Ichigo’s confident explanation or the fact that he was on a first-name basis with a captain, they didn’t show it. One calmly extracted a collapsible stretcher from the pack over her back and together, they expertly lifted Yoneda onto the stretcher. 

“Now then, Hasagawa-san.” Rukia turned her attention to the boy once the members of the Fourth had left. “Why don’t you explain to me exactly how someone who graduated from the Academy and was skilled enough to join my division lost control of his shikai?”

The next few days continued in much the same vein; Ichigo and Rukia trained together in the mornings and Rukia managed her duties as a captain in the afternoons and early evenings. Ichika, drawn to the novelty of a guest in her home (or perhaps to his familiar reiryoku), woke Ichigo up every morning and demanded a story before breakfast. On his third morning in Soul Society, Ichigo, whose tastes had long since shifted from fairytales to Shakespeare, summoned up long-ago memories of his mother reading to him at night as a child. He told her the story of Issun-Boshi, the one-inch high boy who wanted to become a warrior and defeated an oni with a sewing needle. Rukia joined them as he was explaining that the tiny warrior used a magical hammer to become a normal-sized man and marry the girl he rescued.

The next morning he dredged up his memories of a story from an old English book he’d found in the Karakura High School library, and told Ichika about Tam Lin, a man captured by faeries who was rescued by the courage of his true love. Ichika told him that the part where Tam Lin turned into different animals was “silly”.

That same morning, Sentarō took ill and Ichigo found himself volunteering to run the training drill for the group of division members Sentarō had been scheduled to manage; Rukia graciously agreed and found herself watching him from the windows of her office as her paperwork sat incomplete on her desk. Though so much time had passed, Ichigo was still so very strong, and even a good teacher: he corrected errors of technique calmly and gave praise when it was warranted.

And even after ten years, Ichigo was still so very _handsome_. Rukia sighed a little as she watched him call one of the newest division members over for a spar; clumsy as the younger man was, Ichigo guided him through fighting an enemy with two blades patiently. He offered a quick smile when the other shinigami managed to hold his own, and the sight of it on his face brought an answering smile to Rukia’s own lips. It must have been getting hot outside, because Ichigo rolled up the sleeves of his shihakusho, exposing a healthy set of biceps. Rukia felt herself flushing a little at the sight. Even after so long without using his sword, Ichigo was still _built_.

Then he called a break and one of the other Shinigami brought water that Ichigo dumped over his head to cool down. Even from her office she could see the rivulets of water running down his partially exposed chest. Rukia actually felt a little faint at the sight.

“Kuchiki Taicho?” Rukia’s fifth seat, a blue-haired woman named Akemi Eguchi, called. Rukia came back to herself and glanced up. “Taicho, message from the Fourth Division for you.”

Rukia accepted the sheet of paper with a brief nod and scanned it quickly. It was in Kiyone’s handwriting; the former third seat typically wrote messages on her sister’s behalf. “We can expect Yoneda to be released tomorrow,” she said. “Eguchi, see that she is placed on light duty for three more days – Kotetsu Fukutaicho says her shoulder needs additional rest.” Kiyone had been unable to resist adding a little gossip to her note, and Rukia covered a laugh with a cough at her contention that Hanataro had a crush on the division’s sixth seat.

At the end of the note, however, Kiyone added that Renji had woken up and was asking for her.

“Yes, Kuchiki Taicho,” Eguchi agreed. She glanced outside at the scene Rukia had been watching. “That’s Kurosaki Ichigo isn’t it?” she asked. Her cheeks flushed slightly as the man in question held out a hand and beckoned another Shinigami forward. “He’s…”

Ichigo’s bicep flexed as he pointed the zanpakutō in his right hand and fired off a getsuga tensho.

“ _Wow_.”

Rukia cleared her throat. “If that’s all, Eguchi?” she prompted. When the woman gave an embarrassed nod and left her office, Rukia set the note from Kiyone aside and resolutely returned her attention to her paperwork. 

That evening, a hell butterfly summoned Ichigo, Rukia, and Byakuya back to Urahara’s lab. The blond scientist met them at the door and ushered them down the stairs and over to his screen. “I’ve spent the past few days working on the images from your memories,” he explained and tapped several keys with long fingers. The image from Rukia’s memory came back up, and slowly sharpened.

Hyōsube Ichibē appeared on the screen, long beard roughed up and haori stained with blood. The expression on his face was grim as he cast the kido that bound first Sode no Shirayuki and then Zangetsu.

“The monk?” Rukia gasped. “But…why would he do this?” She tensed up, hands curling into fists at the sight of him. “ _He_ made us forget and condemned us to this – _this_.” She couldn’t even finish the words, but Ichigo’s reaction was worse: his reiatsu spun out from his body, rocking the laboratory.

“What the _hell_. After all that, why would he—”

“Kurosaki, you must calm yourself.” Byakuya’s low voice cut through Ichigo’s shout, through the wildly spiraling reiatsu. “We cannot find out the answer to your question if you bring this building down around us.” He stooped, slightly, as the pressure only grew.

“Ichigo.” The word was a whisper, and Rukia tucked her hand into his. It wasn’t entirely appropriate – they were both married _to other people_ – but it worked. Ichigo exhaled heavily, and he calmed at her touch.

“Aah. Yes, he is one of the members of Zero Division, isn’t he?” Urahara asked, as if nothing had happened. “How strange…”

Ichigo scowled. “Yhwach killed him during the war, but he was able to bring himself back. Afterwards, he told me that we couldn’t win against the Quincy king.”

“But we _did_ win,” Rukia pointed out. “What would be the value in separating us afterwards? You saved _four_ worlds, Ichigo. Why would Ichibē bind Zangetsu?”

“Hell if I know.” Ichigo put his hands on his hips. “Maybe he didn’t like being proved wrong.”

“I think,” Urahara began, “That you will need to travel back to the royal realm and confront this guard.”

“But that’s impossible! You needed to _launch_ us there during the war,” Ichigo exclaimed.

“Hmm. Come back tomorrow,” Urahara said. “I have something I’ve been working on, but I need to finish it first.”

“You just have something lying around that will get us into the royal realm!?” At Rukia’s hand on his forearm, Ichigo exhaled noisily.

“We will return in the morning, Urahara-san,” Rukia said formally. “Thank you.”

Dawn came to Soul Society on the day that they were scheduled to leave for the royal realm. Rukia woke before the sun was fully risen; she’d stayed the night in the Kuchiki manor again. Ichigo and her brother had been surprisingly cordial toward one another during a late supper. In fact the only awkward moment was when Rukia announced that Renji had regained consciousness. Ichigo had just looked down guiltily, while Byakuya said nothing at all.

That was why Rukia shunpoed to the Fourth Division after an early breakfast. Her haori billowed around her as she landed just outside the courtyard. The division had done a remarkable job of cleaning up the grounds in just the past few days, although there was still some repair work to be done.

Kiyone met her at the door. “Kuchiki Taicho,” she greeted. “Are you well? It has been an exciting few days for us!”

Rukia smiled indulgently at Kiyone’s enthusiasm. “So I see, Kiyone. I’ve come to check on Abarai Fukutaicho.”

“Oh! Yes of course. Please, follow me. Would you like some tea to be brought?” If Kiyone thought it odd that Rukia was addressing her husband by her title, she kept it to herself. They walked through the relief station to the back of the building, where there were several small rooms. “Abarai Fukutaicho is just in here,” Kiyone announced.

Rukia nodded her thanks. “No tea is necessary, Kiyone. Thank you.” She stepped inside.

Renji was sitting up in the bed, hair released from his braid and flowing down below his shoulders. He was shirtless but covered in bandages from shoulder to waist and down his left arm all the way to his wrist. He looked up as Rukia entered the room and shut the door behind her. “Finally decided to visit?” he asked in a drawl.

She didn’t answer at first, choosing instead to cast a kido spell that flashed around the door and window, then a second that resulted in two small devices falling from the ceiling. She crushed each of those beneath a dainty, sandaled foot, then pulled a chair from one corner to the bedside and perched upon it, shihakusho and haori flowing over her petite frame in generous folds. “You must be feeling better if you have the energy to snark at me,” she commented.

“Hmph. Guess Ichigo got that power of his under control too, if you’re not moping around.” Renji glanced at the crushed silver devices on the floor. “Think Kotetsu Taicho knows her division is bugged?”

Rukia’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “He did,” she acknowledged. Her reiatsu spilled out angrily for a moment before she reined it in.

Renji’s eyes widened at the pressure that suddenly surrounded him, and in his weakened state he started to sweat. “You’re angry with me.”

Rukia brushed a hand against Sode no Shirayuki’s hilt. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“What the hell, Rukia? He attacked _me_ , not the other way around,” Renji growled at her.

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “Zangetsu was very angry. Did you know that he had been bound, and Ichigo’s memories tampered with?”

Renji’s head jerked as he stared at her, sending vibrant hair spilling over his unbandaged shoulder. “No. Who would do that?”

“The same person who bound Sode no Shirayuki and tampered with _my_ memories. Twice.” Rukia watched with some small amount of satisfaction as Renji’s pupils turned to pinpricks and his body tensed up.

“What the hell would anyone do that for?” Renji finally asked. “And when? Isn’t that illegal?” Then he stared at her. “You don’t think _I_ did it?”

Rukia cleared her throat. “The first time was ten years ago. And no, of course I don’t think you did it. You aren’t good enough with kido.”

“Then who?” Renji’s hands fisted in the blanket covering his legs.

“Hyōsube Ichibē.” The name made Renji’s jaw drop and he stared at Rukia.

“The monk from Zero Division? Why? What…what did he change?”

“Why did you agree to marry me?” Rukia asked instead.

“What?” She just looked at him until Renji sighed and ran his uninjured hand through his hair. “Don’t…take this the wrong way,” he cautioned. “Taicho told me that the elders were marrying you off and asked if I’d do it. I thought we could be good together. But then he…” He frowned. “He sent me on training missions in Hueco Mundo for months at a time. He had me posted in Naoshima for ten months. Most boring assignment I’ve ever had. Why are you asking this _now_?” Renji finished.

Rukia tucked her hands into the sleeves of her haori. “Ichigo and I are leaving for the Soul King’s palace later today,” she said quietly, “to confront the monk.”

“You’re _what?!_ ” Renji shouted, and Rukia was briefly grateful that her kido spells were holding.

“He tampered with our memories and our zanpakutō. I need to find out why. What he did has consequences, and if he doesn’t…fix it, Ichigo and I will both die,” Rukia explained calmly.

The redhead eyed her carefully. “There’s more, isn’t there. There’s a reason you’re asking why I married you.”

Rukia rose from her chair. “I have to go, Renji.”

Renji struggled to sit up, reaching for Zabimaru with one hand and swinging his feet toward the floor. “Damn Kuchiki stubbornness,” he groused. “You think the two of you are going to face the Zero Division _alone_? Just let me get my uniform on and tell Taicho.” He groaned when a light push from Rukia had him flat on the bed again.

“You’re still injured,” Rukia admonished. When he tried to rise again, she threatened, “Don’t make me cast _Sai_ on you. Ichigo and I will be fine.” She ignored Renji’s bleak expression and turned on her heel.

She left Renji, still grumbling, and shunpoed to Urahara’s not-so-secret lab. When she arrived, Ichigo and her brother were already there.

“How’s Renji doing?” Ichigo asked.

Rukia grimaced. “He’s recovering. I don’t think he had anything to do with…any of this.” Ichigo opened his mouth to speak again, but Urahara interrupted.

“Kuchiki-san!” the scientist greeted as he turned in his chair. “Right on time. Now we can get started.” He pushed a button and a set of stairs slid down from the ceiling of the lab. “Up the stairs, please.”

Ichigo and Rukia exchanged glances, but obediently climbed up the metal stairs. Urahara and Byakuya followed them, the former tapping his cane on each step as he went. They emerged onto the roof of the small building, where a relatively squat, conical metal structure sat.

“And this is your transport. As I said, I’d been working on it at the shop,” Urahara announced.

Rukia and Ichigo looked at one another, their faces comically incredulous. “Did…did he say that’s our transport?” Rukia whispered, one hand hiding her mouth from view as she leaned closer to him.

“It looks like a spaceship,” Ichigo whispered back.

“It does look like a spaceship!” Urahara crowed. “It will launch you up to the Soul King’s palace. Inside, now, inside.”

But neither Rukia nor Ichigo moved. “What about the Ōken?” Rukia finally asked.

Urahara waved a hand negligently. “Don’t worry about that!”

“Don’t worry about it?!” Ichigo exploded. “How can we not worry about it when having an Ōken is a critical part of getting into the palace?”

Urahara tipped his hat up and looked at them out of his good eye. “I assure you: you will be able to reach the palace in safety.” He gestured, and a panel slid away, allowing entry into the transport device.

Rukia turned to look at Byakuya, who had been impassively watching the display. “Nii-sama, please watch over Ichika for me.” At his nod, Rukia stepped forward and walked through the doorway of the transport.

Ichigo gave Byakuya a solemn nod and turned to Urahara. “Thanks, Urahara-san,” he said quietly. Then he, too, stepped into the transport. The panel slid shut.

Inside, the transport was padded with white fabric. There were two small seats with straps. Rukia had already sat on one and tied the straps around herself; Ichigo did the same quickly. There was little room to move around; Ichigo hoped the trip wouldn’t be a long one.

“How did the discussion with Renji go, really?” Ichigo asked. He watched Rukia carefully, hands itching to take hers.

“I didn’t tell him everything,” Rukia murmured. “About…what we were to each other, or about Ichika. I left it unfinished.” She sighed. “He tried to come with us anyway.”

The transport began to shake around them. “He _is_ your husband,” Ichigo pointed out – in part to remind himself of that fact.

Rukia lowered her eyes. Before she could think to say anything else, the transport shot into the sky. Both of its occupants were jerked down into their seats at the moment of launch, and the sense of pressure continued as they rose into the sky.

“We’ve never acted as husband and wife,” Rukia finally said quietly.

Ichigo cleared his throat. “But you said he thinks Ichika is his,” he pointed out.

Rukia flushed deep crimson. “Well there was _that_ , a couple of times just after the wedding, but we never lived together, and we haven’t slept together in years,” she snapped.

“Neither have Orihime and I,” Ichigo said after a few minutes, when Rukia’s blushes had started to fade.

“But…but you live together,” Rukia stuttered.

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve spent most of the last ten years in school and then in my residency,” he pointed out. “Medical school for six years, and then I needed to complete a two year residency. And the new doctors get the worst shifts. I used to get home early in the morning and collapse on the couch.”

Rukia pursed her lips. “Doesn’t Orihime feel neglected?”

“Jeez, Rukia. I—” Before Ichigo could say any more, the transport started to shake violently. “I think we’re nearly there,” he said unnecessarily. The violent shaking continued and even increased, and the transport seemed to stall in place for a moment.

Then, with a _pop_ that sounded like a cork blasting out of a champagne bottle, the transport lurched up into an arc. It landed a moment later, and a video screen came to life perpendicular to Ichigo and Rukia. “Welcome to the Soul King’s palace!” Urahara announced on the video screen. He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling nearly the whole screen. “Remember, you need to convince Hyōsube to untangle your threads. Try not to kill anyone while you’re there. And when you’re ready to come back, just push the button below this screen,” he instructed. “The doorway will respond only to the two of you.”

The door opened, and Rukia and Ichigo nodded at one another briefly. They untied the straps around themselves and stepped outside, Ichigo first and Rukia following. “Damn,” Ichigo said quietly. “We’re not in Hyōsube’s city – we’re in Kirio-san’s.”

Rukia hummed her agreement. “We’ll need to find a way to get there. They catapulted us last time, but perhaps there’s another way?”

Strong reiatsu struck them both, suddenly, and Ichigo and Rukia turned. Kirio Hikifune was standing just feet away: she had found them, and she was rushing closer. Fast.


	10. In Hikifune's City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia and Ichigo spend time in Hikifune's city. Sode no Shirayuki and Zangetsu spend time with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a fair amount of "not technically adultery" in this chapter.

Before either Ichigo or Rukia could raise a weapon, Hikifune grabbed them both. The two shinigami found themselves crushed into the purple-haired woman’s pillowy body. When Rukia squeaked weakly that she couldn’t breathe, the Zero Division member abruptly let them both go, and watched with an amused smile on her face while the two caught their breath.

“I am so happy to see you, my dears!” she exclaimed, as if they hadn’t just _broken into_ her city. “And you, Kuchiki _Taicho_ – how marvelous! Do you have many babies together? Did you bring them to see me?”

Ichigo and Rukia stared first at Hikifune and then at one another in incomprehension. “Ah...Kirio-san,” Ichigo finally said. “We’re not married to one another. We have…other partners.”

Hikifune’s mouth dropped open. “You’re what? But you were so perfect together! And after the night you spent in my city, you glowed like the sun and moon,” she sputtered, causing her visitors to drop their heads, cheeks reddened.

Rukia finally looked up. “We came here in part because of that,” she said quietly. “Well, to this realm. We intended to find Hyōsube Ichibē, but it seems our transport was a little…off course.”

Hikifune drew herself up. “Well, you had better come inside and explain, then. Come, come, I’ll cook you a meal and you can tell me everything.”

They followed her into her beautiful dining hall, glancing wide-eyed at one another. Ichigo hadn’t expected such a warm welcome; they didn’t have permission to be in the royal realm, after all, and he wasn’t even a real shinigami. He’d guessed that Hikifune knew about their night together all those years ago, had guessed that the Zero Division member had even encouraged it, sending him to Rukia’s room as she had, but – her superior had separated them.

A few minutes later, the pair found themselves seated at Hikifune’s enormous table. “Relax, relax, while I cook,” Hikifune admonished and swept into her kitchen, white haori billowing around her. Soon, the sounds of knives chopping and food sizzling in pans met their ears. “Do you think this is a trap?” Rukia asked in a whisper.

“I don’t think so. She seemed genuinely shocked that we’re not together. And remember, she was the one who sent me to your room that night.” They both blushed at Ichigo’s reminder.

“Hn. But the monk – wouldn’t he have told her what he did?” Rukia asked when the color in her cheeks was back to normal.

A substantially more svelte Hikifune bustled out of the kitchen with an enormous bowl of piping hot rice in one hand and a platter of tempura shrimp in the other. Before they could say anything, she was gone again, and then back with a platter each of vegetables and delectable-looking sushi. Finally, she placed tall glasses of cold tea in front of each of them, and sat down at the head of the table, waiting expectantly. “Well?” she said as Ichigo and Rukia stared at the bounty before them. “Eat! And then tell me why you’ve come to find the monk.”

Obediently, Rukia reached for the rice and served a portion for all three of them, while Ichigo served the tempura and vegetables. They selected pieces of sushi as well, choosing from square rolls assembled so elegantly that the sliced pieces looked like stained-glass windows. Both clasped their hands before them and very politely uttered, “Itadakimasu” before picking up their chopsticks. Hikifune did the same a moment later.

Hikifune let them eat silently for a few minutes, and for that time Ichigo let himself enjoy their meal. Her cooking was exquisite, better than anything he’d eaten in ten years: the tempura was perfectly crispy, the rice just the right texture. The sushi contained the freshest fish he’d ever tasted, and the vegetables were still just a bit crisp.

When the tempura was consumed and the rice nearly gone, however, Hikifune set her glass down. “Now that you’ve taken the edge off of your hunger,” she began, “why are you here?”

Taking it in turns, the pair of shinigami explained what had happened since their departure from her city. Hikifune served them each another helping of her tempura while they talked, and then more sushi as well. Her expression grew darker all the while, and when Rukia ended with, “And so, Urahara-san told us that we must come here, to untangle the threads,” Hikifune slapped one hand on the table and set the enormous dishes rattling.

“Preposterous,” she pronounced it. “I saw the red thread between you the first moment we met, and Ichibē must have done the same. To tangle your threads so and create such unhappiness is _obscene_. Eat, eat, and then rest. And then we will go to the monk _together_.”

Rukia exchanged a look with Ichigo. “Even if he agrees to do…whatever he must do to help us untangle the threads, will it work?” she asked hesitantly.

Hikifune eyed Rukia. “Finish your sushi, Kuchiki Taicho, while I make dessert.” She rose from the table and bustled away with the empty platters.

Ichigo polished off another piece of shrimp nigiri. “What makes you think it won’t work?” he asked when he was sure they were alone.

“Ichigo, even if Hyōsube fixes whatever he did, I’ll still be married to Renji and you’ll still be with Orihime,” Rukia pointed out. “Won’t the threads still be tangled?”

“Hn. Maybe whatever he did has kept them tangled.”

Rukia eyed him. “What do you mean?”

Ichigo shrugged, but he was carefully sipping his tea instead of looking at her. “You can’t untie a knot if someone pours glue over it,” he said.

Before Rukia could reply, Hikifune swept back out of the kitchen with a surprisingly dainty chocolate cake. She set it down between them, then set down plates, an outsized cake knife, and three little forks. “Go on,” she encouraged. “I’m sure you saved room for dessert.”

Rukia and Ichigo stared at one another over the cake. Finally, Ichigo picked up the cake knife and served them all, offering Rukia her choice of slice. There were fresh strawberries on top and strawberry jam through the middle of the ganache-covered cake, along with a layer of white chocolate mousse.

At the first bite, Rukia nearly melted into her chair and let out an involuntary moan. “This is _delicious_ , Kirio-san,” she exclaimed, and took another bite.

Hikifune just smiled, and watched as Ichigo blushed a little, then looked at his companion fondly before turning his attention to his own cake.

When they were both full practically to bursting, Hikifune stood. “And now that you’ve been fed, you must rest.” When Ichigo opened his mouth to object, she waved a hand. “Just for a little while, Kurosaki-san. You need time to digest.” At another gesture, Rukia and Ichigo stood and obediently followed Hikifune from her grand dining room to a separate building much more modest in scale. She pushed the wooden door open with a light touch and waved them inside. “I’ll return in a few hours; I have preparations to make!”

When Hikifune shut the door behind her, Rukia took the opportunity to look around the space they’d been ushered into. There was a low, teak wood sofa stacked with colorful cushions along one wall, and a matching coffee table in front of it. Open shoji doors framed a second space – a bedroom with a surprisingly large bed laden with pillows. Rukia’s cheeks flushed red at the sight, and she quickly sat on the sofa.

Ichigo joined her there a moment later. He was close enough that they could have touched, although he didn’t reach for her. “She isn’t subtle,” he decided after a few minutes of silence, prompting a strangled laugh from Rukia.

“What a mess,” she finally said, head falling back against the cushions. Her eyes felt damp and she quickly blinked away the moisture.

“Che, we’ve gotten out of worse messes together.” The words made her laugh again, and she rolled her head on the cushions to look over at him.

“By fighting,” she pointed out. “Those messes could be solved with a blade. There wasn’t any memory tampering, or children out of wedlock, or…Ichigo, what are you even going to tell Orihime?”

Ichigo grunted. “I haven’t gotten that far.” His eyes met hers. “I don’t know how much there is to tell yet.”

There was something soft in his tone, something that sounded like longing, and red rushed into Rukia’s cheeks unbidden. “We-well obviously you have to tell her about Ichika. And Kazui should know that he has a half-sister,” she deflected.

“Yeah.” Ichigo looked away from her and sighed heavily. “It’s weird how I thought I was too young when Kazui came along. I was even younger when Ichika was born.” His expression darkened. “I’m sorry I wasn’t –”

“Idiot,” Rukia mumbled. "You already apologized for that. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t like you knew about her and abandoned me.”

“I _should_ have known. I should have been able to fight whatever Hyōsube did. I should have fought it off and come back to you!” Ichigo’s voice rose nearly to a shout, startling Rukia into sitting up.

“And how were you supposed to have done that?” she asked pointedly. “The monk is the leader of the Zero Division. He is one of the strongest and most talented shinigami ever to _exist_. And you didn’t even know that there was something _wrong_!”

Ichigo still wasn’t looking at her, but as Rukia watched, a tear rolled from the corner of his eye and into his hairline. “I knew there was something missing.” His voice was very quiet, almost inaudible. “I knew it when I had to watch you marry Renji, and when I…” He cleared his throat. “I knew,” he repeated in a rough voice.

She knew it was wrong to reach for him. Rukia did it anyway, her hand finding his and holding tight. “Do I need to shout at you to stop being depressed?” she asked, and she was only half-joking. “We can’t change the past, Ichigo. We can only go forward.”

**Just stab him,** Zangetsu suggested. It broke some of the tension when they both heard it.

“We can’t go around stabbing people,” Ichigo objected tiredly. He looked at Rukia then. “You hear him too, don’t you?” he asked. “Byakuya seemed really freaked out when he noticed it.”

Rukia murmured her agreement. “I’ve never heard of a shinigami hearing another’s zanpakutō spirit.” She yawned briefly; the heavy food they’d eaten was making her sleepy.

“Something to do with the red thread,” Ichigo guessed. Then he squeezed her hand lightly. “Do you want to take a nap?” he offered. “Kirio-san said that she needed a few hours.” He yawned as well.

“Yes, I think so. Perhaps this was what Kirio-san meant when she said we need to ‘digest’. Rukia rose from the sofa and looked toward the bed. “You should rest as well.”

Ichigo leaned his head back. “Yeah. You take the bed; I’ll be fine out here.”

Rukia looked over the sofa; it wasn’t long enough for him to stretch out on. “I’ll take the sofa and you can use the bed. The sofa’s too short for you, dummy. And you’ll get a headache sleeping like _that_.”

Ichigo opened one eye and looked at her. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Rukia forcibly pulled him out of his seat as Ichigo objected – loudly. “Come on,” she insisted and pulled him beyond the shoji screens. She shoved him onto the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll be on the sofa.”

Before she could leave, Ichigo grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Bed’s big,” he muttered gruffly. “Just stay on your side.”

Rukia huffed at him but laid down alongside him to end the argument. She turned her back to him and thought she might at least rest for a few minutes, even if sleeping next to her friend was out of the question. Hikifune’s food really did have a soporific effect, however, and before long they were both fast asleep.

* * *

Zangetsu leapt from hillock to snow-covered hillock, following the sweet scent of andromeda that he’d grown to realize was Sode no Shirayuki. She’d always smelled like snow to him, but in the blizzard that was Kuchiki Rukia’s inner world, he’d quickly had to learn the other subtle, winter’s bloom perfume that called him to her. The snow slackened momentarily, and he smirked; he could _feel_ that Ichigo was calming for a moment, settling into sleep – next to Rukia. Maybe it would finally stop flooding in Ichigo’s inner world. Until it did, Shirayuki’s home was a little more hospitable even with all the cold and snow. At least he wasn’t drowning, anyway.

He landed in the shadow of a snowdrift and she was there, kimono sparkling white and obi soft lavender as it wrapped around her waist. Her white hair blew around her in the blizzard, but the star sapphire pin was a spot of bright color amid the snow and ice. “Snow lady,” he said quietly, and she turned.

“Zangetsu-san,” she murmured in return. This close she was already overwhelming; he’d heard others call her the most beautiful zanpakutō in all of Soul Society, and they were right. They’d met, years and years ago, when the Old Man had pretended to be him, and again when the truth of the King’s zanpakutō had come out. They’d been together, just before the King and his Queen had been torn apart.

His snow lady was elegant and delicate – and deadly. And he – he was a negative reflection of his wielder, a yellow-eyed monster who shouldn’t even take her by the hand after leaving her alone for so long. He wasn’t even – 

Shirayuki reached out and took his hand in hers. “You shouldn’t bring such absurd thoughts to my door,” she admonished, but her voice was cool and gentle as it washed over him. “It was you who broke the seal on yourself and on me. And it was us, working together, who brought back their memories.” Her other hand moved and a door opened in the air before them, leading into warmth and light. She stepped in and he followed, hand twined with hers.

“Hn. It took ten years too long. They’re asleep,” he pointed out as the door closed behind him. They weren’t in the cabin from a few weeks ago; this place shut out the blizzard almost entirely. It was warm, dry, and oddly _modern_. Zangetsu turned in place to look at the pale, polished ash wood floors and walls painted silver-gray. It looked like a studio apartment from one of the television shows that the Kurosaki twins liked to watch: there was a fireplace set in one wall across from a comfortable-looking, plush white sofa, and in one corner, behind a screen, was a huge bed made up with white bedding.

“They are,” Shirayuki agreed. She flushed as she followed his eyes, but together they sat on the sofa. “Neither of them has said anything when we’ve spent time together. I wonder if they can’t sense it.”

“Maybe. If the King doesn’t slit the monk’s throat I’m taking over again and doing it myself,” Zangetsu growled. But her hand touched his again, and some of his ire softened.

“If the monk does not fix it, I’ll help,” Shirayuki agreed softly. “But right now, they are resting, and we should rest too, while they absorb Kirio-san’s power.”

“Hn. Didn’t think you invited me in here to rest,” Zangetsu said, and raised an eyebrow at her. He smirked when a blush dusted over her cheeks, turning the snow-white skin pale pink. “You didn’t, my snow lady, did you?”

Shirayuki cleared her throat. “I have never invited another into my space,” she admitted, cheeks flushing a deeper hue. When Zangetsu raised a white-haired eyebrow at her, she added, “The nue showed up after Rukia married.”

Zangetsu sneered. “Showed up uninvited?” he asked. But his hand gripped hers tightly. He could feel her slender bones beneath pale skin.

“Hn. The first time they – well.” Shirayuki made a face. “The blizzard had already started, and I thought this whole world was going to come apart. I told him that if he ever entered Rukia’s inner world again I would turn him into an ice sculpture and return him to his master in pieces,” Shirayuki said primly.

Her hand shook in his despite her tone, though, and his thumb brushed over soft, cool skin. “He won’t be back,” Zangetsu promised. “The nue _or_ its wielder.”

She murmured in agreement, “He won’t. He came back a second time and I froze him with my _tsukishiro_. Abarai couldn’t use his zanpakutō properly for a month and had no idea why – the nue was too embarrassed to tell him.”

His attempt to stifle his snort was unsuccessful, but Zangetsu pointed out, “You let me in.”

“Well.” Shirayuki looked up at him, pale eyes gleaming in the light from the fire. “You’re different, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Am I?” He didn’t think that he knew how to be gentle; born of a hollow and built for fighting, Zangetsu didn’t think that any of Ichigo’s softer tendencies had rubbed off on him. But Shirayuki – just _looking_ at her softened him and when he leaned in and pressed his white lips against hers, he kept himself soft; he kept himself under control. But then her mouth moved under his and it sent a bolt straight through him. His hand came up and his fingers slid into the mass of silver-white hair at the nape of her neck, keeping her pressed close to him as they kissed. His teeth nipped, making her gasp, and Zangetsu pressed his advantage, tongue darting into her mouth.

His snow lady gave as good as she got: she was no shrinking, scared flower. One hand fisted in the white fabric of his shihakusho to drag him closer and she was as eager as him, tongue finding his and cool skin heating under the touch of his hand. When he dragged his lips down her neck and _bit_ , marking her white skin, Shirayuki moaned for him and Zangetsu pulled her closer. He wanted to mark her, he wanted her to be _his_. “If you weren’t, I’d have frozen you for biting me like that,” Shirayuki gasped out, as her cold hands pushed aside white fabric and slipped inside his shihakusho.

He bit again, but lightly, and his tongue slid over the reddening skin. “I’m not gentle,” he warned as his fingers unknotted her obijime and tried to unwrap the lavender fabric beneath it. When the fabric refused to fall away from her, he tore it instead, sharp nails ripping through silk until the ruined fabric fell away from her slender waist along with the pale green obiage.

She smirked at him as her sparkling white kimono fell open, and her own fingers deftly untied the black sash that held his shihakusho shut. “And I’m not fragile,” Shirayuki reminded him, as her hand slid into his hakama.

“Good,” he growled softly as he dragged his mouth further down, leaving a trail of reddening marks where his lips nipped at her skin. His fingers tore at the nagajuban beneath the kimono – she wore so many _layers_ , and he wanted all of them off, wanted to see her bare and flushed beneath him. Zangetsu shuddered against her when she grasped him, and his hand tightened in her silver-white hair as he muttered her name against her skin.

He shucked off his hakama when her fingers undid the knot holding them up, and when Shirayuki was bare for him as well, piles of fabric surrounding her, Zangetsu rose and lifted her slender form into his arms so that he could carry her over to her bed. “Tell me you want me,” he demanded as he dropped her on the soft bedding and then joined her, leaning over her to mark her again with lips and teeth. “Tell me you want _this_.” And his hand slid down, along the soft skin of her belly and the crease of her thigh to find and cup the core of her.

Shirayuki’s pale eyes met his yellow ones, and she arched her hips up toward his fingers, lips parting on a gasp. “I want you,” she told him through kiss-reddened lips as she grabbed for him.

Zangetsu grinned down at her as two fingers slid along soft, already slick skin, drawing out another gasp. Her fingernails bit into his back and he huffed out, “Good,” and focused his attentions on her breasts, on sucking pale nipples into stiff, pink peaks and laving his tongue over her soft skin. She was so _soft_ – but a live wire under him, fingers threading through his white hair as she writhed beneath him, hips arching towards his fingers while lips parting on moans that were already music to his ears.

“ _Zangetsu_.” His name on her lips like that, breathy and _needy_ , sent a shudder of pleasure through him and he dragged her legs further apart, grinning again when she threw a slender ankle over his shoulder and tried to drag him closer. When he licked into soft folds already wet and warm for him – already delicious for him – Shirayuki choked on air and said his name again, and he _loved it_. He was already so hard, hips jerking into the bedding beneath him for relief as he lapped at her clit and slid two fingers inside of her. Her hips jerked up toward his mouth and he took it for the hint it was when her hand tightened in his hair and tried to drag him closer.

When she came under his mouth, he almost ruined himself it was so sexy: just her, pale as the moon and writhing underneath him as she called his name, cheeks flushed in her passion. Shirayuki reached for him and he gave her only the barest warning as he rose up, letting her leg fall back to the bed. “You’re _mine_ ,” Zangetsu told her as he pulled her closer by the thighs and dragged his cock, thick and hard, through her slick folds. Even just that made them both moan, and he clutched her thighs hard enough that he knew she’d be marked there, too.

Shirayuki slid her arms around him and one hand found the back of his neck to urge him closer, as she murmured _Yes_ in his ear, pale eyes meeting his. When he pushed inside of her they both gasped and she covered his mouth with hers, stifling her moans on his lips as they kissed while he sank deeper into the tight, wet silk of her. He almost came right then and there, sheathed inside of her and shuddering with the effort of holding himself back.

They moved together, hips slapping against one another in the low light as she scored his back with her fingernails again and he shuddered again, loving the sting of them and knowing that _he’d_ be marked too. Zangetsu moved faster while she moaned for him, his name breaking apart in her mouth as he rocked into her, filling her over and over again. “Touch yourself,” he ordered against her lips, and her eyes fluttered open. Then she smirked, and one of her hands slid down between them to cup his sac instead, squeezing as he shook above her before she did as he’d ordered and her fingers settled higher.

He bit her lip in retaliation and fucked _harder_ , slamming into her over and over as she shook beneath him, lips parting on moans that he drank in, even as he dragged her hips higher to change the angle of his thrusts, finding a spot that made Shirayuki’s eyes roll back into her head. He hitched out a gasp when her inner walls fluttered and tightened around him, and that was all the warning he got before she crashed into her orgasm, head thrown back and mouth choking out his name while she clenched around him. He ground his hips against hers, her name a curse and a prayer as he followed, spilling himself into the heat of her before they collapsed together, white skin flushed pink and sweat-slick.

When Zangetsu came back to himself he collapsed off to one side of her and pulled her against him, his chest pressed against her back. She was his – she was _his_ , after a decade of being apart from her. And it turned out, Zangetsu had lied about his ability to be gentle: as he curved himself around her, one pale arm keeping her tucked against him, he pressed soft lips to all the blossoming hickeys and other marks he could reach and promised quietly that he’d never let her go again.

When Shirayuki turned her head he kissed her lips, too, and whispered, _“I love you,”_ into her skin. Her lips curved under his and she whispered the words in return.

* * *

Sometime in the several hours that they slept, Ichigo and Rukia drifted together. When they woke with Hikifune standing over them and beaming, Rukia’s head was on Ichigo’s chest and his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. They slid away from one another, cheeks pink, and stared at her.

“I hope you had a good rest!” Hikifune exclaimed as if what she was seeing wasn’t at all unusual. “My preparations are complete, and I am ready to take you to Ichibē’s city. We leave in ten minutes.” Then she swept away, leaving them alone.

“Ichigo…” Rukia’s cheeks burned bright red; in her sleep she’d seen flashes of white skin on white, of Zangetsu and Shirayuki as they twined together. Was it considered infidelity if your _zanpakutō_ had sex? Those images hadn’t been dreams, after all – she didn’t even need to sit jinzen to feel Shirayuki’s satisfaction.

Ichigo’s cheeks reddened again but he barely looked at her as he rolled to put his feet on the floor, facing away from her. “You can use the washroom first,” he muttered.

Rukia shook herself of sleep and combed a hand through her hair, then stood and made her way to the washroom in the corner. _Now what?_ she asked herself as she peered into the small mirror mounted on the wall. Beyond the thin door she could hear rustling and then – her cheeks flushed bright red and she pressed herself against the wall of the bathroom, one hand covering her mouth so that no noise could escape. It was clear that Ichigo had seen those same images, had been _affected_ by them.

Well – she wasn’t immune either, especially not with the knowledge that her best friend, her former lover, was touching himself with just a thin wooden door between them. But there was still Renji. There was still _Orihime._ Rukia took a deep breath and, as silently as she could, washed up. When she was done freshening up, she left without a word to Ichigo and pretended not to see the guilt and embarrassment on his face.

Once Ichigo had completed his own ablutions they slipped their sandals back on at the door and met Hikifune outside. She led them to the catapult they’d used ten years ago, and Ichigo groaned at the memory. “There really isn’t a better way?” he griped even as he climbed in. Rukia stepped in next to him and his breath hitched before he settled, shoulder brushing against hers. Hikifune launched them into the air before they could say anything further.

This time Ichigo managed not to scream as they were flung through the air toward the monk’s city. Rukia was flying faster than he was, and she landed first, haori gracefully fluttering around her. Ichigo was significantly less graceful but he managed not to hit her as he tumbled head over feet twice before coming to a stop.

Hikifune followed them a moment later, and Ichigo and Rukia both got out of the way quickly as she came in for a landing. “Very good!” she said cheerfully as she straightened up and brushed wrinkles out of her voluminous haori. Her expression darkened and her voice turned serious as she turned toward Ichibē’s palace, which was perched at the top of a long set of stairs. “Follow me, then. It’s time to have a word with Ichibē-san.”

Ichigo reflexively checked both of Zangetsu’s blades – on his back and at his hip – and he saw Rukia do the same with Sode no Shirayuki. They followed Hikifune up the stairs and past the fabric curtains.

“Aah, Hikifune-chan!” a deep voice called. Hyōsube Ichibē emerged from behind another curtain. He was as large as Ichigo remembered, broad and tall, and the outsize beads around his neck were the same as they had been a decade ago. His beard seemed somewhat bushier. “And two shinigami. I didn’t know we were expecting visitors.”

Ichigo growled under his breath, but Hikifune stepped in front of him and a look from Rukia quieted him.

“Ichibē-san, my friends Kurosaki-san and Kuchiki taicho have come to me with a very interesting story,” Hikifune announced cheerfully. “Perhaps you know it?”

“Oh?” Ichibē drew closer and grinned at the two shinigami as if he hadn’t meddled with their lives. “I don’t know any stories about these two, Hikifune-chan. What story did they tell you?”

Hikifune’s expression darkened again and she drew herself up to her full height. “A story about how their memories were sealed, their zanpakutō tampered with, and the red thread between them tangled deliberately. Do you know who might have done that, _Ichibē_?”

Rukia’s hand fell to the hilt of her zanpakutō even as a whisper of cold rage buffeted through her. She could hear Zangetsu as well, already calling for the monk’s blood. Beside her Ichigo’s right hand reached for the weapon on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that Zangetsu's dialogue is no longer bold. I've realized it's a little odd to have him speak in bold text all the time. Going forward, his dialogue will only be bold when he is either speaking in Ichigo or Rukia's head, or if he takes over Ichigo's body again. I'll likely go back and fix the earlier chapters when I have time in order to make this consistent.


	11. Dancing with Snow White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and Rukia confront the monk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With apologies for the delay on this chapter. I fussed around with it and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it, but here we are.
> 
> Also, there is more crack-treated-seriously in this chapter. And a little lampshading.

Ichigo drew the blade on his back and waited in silence as Ichibē looked at them: a former substitute, a leader of the thirteen divisions, and his fellow Zero Division member.

“It’s bold to draw a weapon on me, Kurosaki,” he said calmly, “Considering that I can cut your power from you.”

“Yeah, well. It was bold of you to bind our zanpakutō and erase our memories,” Ichigo pointed out.

“I see. You know, then,” Ichibē said calmly.

Rukia and Ichigo exchanged a look. “So, you don’t deny it?” Rukia asked. She drew Sode no Shirayuki, and ice-cold reiatsu swirled around her, sending her too-large haori billowing around her body.

Ichibē just beckoned them forward. “We may as well sit down and have tea.”

“ **Tea?** ” Ichigo’s voice was a low growl, inflected with Zangetsu’s, and beside him Rukia’s reiatsu was forming ice patterns on the ground.

“Yes. And then you can decide whether to try your luck against my Ichimonji,” Ichibē said with a shrug, “though I will blacken the names of your zanpakutō as easily as I have erased your memories.”

Before either Ichigo or Rukia could respond, a giant wok chuan – of all things – blocked them. “We will have tea,” Hikifune declared cheerfully, though her eyes sparked with irritation as she looked at her colleague.

Ichigo’s expression promised retribution, but Rukia sheathed Sode no Shirayuki and stepped forward, he did the same with Zangetsu. A servant rushed in and delivered a brown tea pot and four cups. Once each of the four Shinigami were seated on cushions and tea had been poured, Ichibē calmly sipped his tea and eyed Ichigo and Rukia. “So,” he said, “You were able to break some of my bindings.”

“Zangetsu broke free,” Ichigo said flatly. Zangetsu was yelling in his head and he could tell that Rukia still heard him. “He took over my body, stormed the Seireitei, and broke the binding on Rukia’s blade as well.”

“Hn, hn. And so why are you here, if your memories are returned and your zanpakutō are unbound?” Ichibē asked. His voice was still even, and to Ichigo he looked utterly unconcerned.

“We’re here because the threads are still tangled,” Rukia said, and her fingers were tight on her teacup. “Urahara told us that something is still wrong and that if you don’t fix it, we’ll both die.”

Ichibē raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Rukia touched Ichigo’s hand with her free one and the thread appeared around them, still snarled and frayed. “This is what Urahara saw.”

Ichibē reached out a hand and the floating thread pulled away reflexively. “Hn. The exile is right. Interesting – my magic should have kept this from you for the rest of Kurosaki’s life.”

“Why did you do all of this?” Ichigo demanded.

The Zero Division leader sipped his tea and glanced at Hikifune. “I did not believe you could defeat Yhwach,” he explained. “I told you as much. Yhwach claimed he would come back at your happiest moment, did he not?” At Rukia’s hesitant nod, he continued, “I could not let that happen, now could I?”

Ichigo blinked and saw red. “You did this so that we wouldn’t be _happy?_ ” The words were a snarl and both Hikifune and Rukia had to grab his arms to keep him for reaching for Zangetsu.

“What is the happiness of two Shinigami weighed against the whole existence of the World of the Living and Soul Society?” Ichibē asked. “It has kept Yhwach away this long, hasn’t it?”

“Actually, his reiatsu appeared two weeks ago. My— _our_ daughter and Ichigo’s son saw it, in the World of the Living. They were able to defeat it easily and Captain Kurotsuchi has verified that there are no traces of Yhwach left,” Rukia said. “And that was _without_ either of us at our happiest moment.”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I was pretty happy seeing you after so long,” he mumbled, and Hikifune openly giggled at the way they both blushed.

Ichibē took another sip of his tea. “I see.”

Rukia took a calming breath. “And that was not all you did,” she told him. “You infiltrated the Fourth Division. You _probably_ killed a seated officer in the Fourth to cover up what you did. And you or a proxy sent someone to infiltrate the Kuchiki Manor as well.”

Ichigo’s jaw dropped, and so did Hikifune’s – Rukia hadn’t told either of them _that_. “Rukia?” he asked tentatively.

Reiatsu began to form around Rukia’s body, sharp and cold enough that the dregs of the tea in her cup froze over. “I was remembering Ichika’s birth a few days ago, and what came after. A servant I had never seen before and whom Nii-sama has denied ever hiring stood guard at my door and summoned help when I was in labor. Strangers from the Fourth attended me. I was bedridden for _seventeen months_.” She looked Ichibē in the face. “At no point during those months did anyone from the Fourth whom I _knew_ attempt to see me. And at no point during the years since my illness have I seen _any_ of those individuals in the Seireitei.”

Ichigo’s reiatsu reached for and wrapped around her as Ichibē watched, eyes wide with curiosity. “I understand that you wanted to prevent Yhwach’s return,” he said, and his eyes burned yellow, the sclera turning black as he looked at Ichibē. “But how many people did you turn or kill? Your interference kept my _daughter_ from me for ten years. And you **made Rukia suffer**.” His words were a low growl overlaid with Zangetsu’s voice.

“Fascinating,” he mumbled as he watched the twining reiatsu. “Can you hear one another’s zanpakutō?” he asked, as if Ichigo was no threat at all.

“Yes. Why?” Rukia asked. She glanced into her frozen cup of tea and then set it down.

“Hmm, that shouldn’t be possible with the threads so tangled,” the monk mused.

Hikifune spoke up, then, cheerful but impatient. “You must undo whatever is still hurting them, Ichibē. Yhwach is dead. Ichigo and Rukia saved the Soul Society, the Living World, and this very realm. You _must_ allow their threads to untangle.” Her voice lowered and grew more serious as she told him, “It is an _obscenity_ that you interfered in the first place.”

Ichibē was silent for a time. He watched the way Ichigo and Rukia’s reiryoku intertwined and the way the red thread around them spun and swirled despite its compromised state. Finally, he set his teacup down. “You will spar with one another for me.”

Ichigo’s mouth dropped open and Rukia just stared at him. “…What?” Ichigo finally asked.

Ichibē’s lips quirked up. “I need a great deal of power to fix what I have done. You will spar with one another and generate that power for me to use.”

Even Hikifune looked skeptical at that statement, but she shrugged her shoulders and said only, “I am glad that I fed you both first.”

“Very well,” Rukia said. “We will do as you ask.”

“You must understand, Kuchiki Taicho, Kurosaki-san. What I will do will not _undo_ what has happened in the past ten years. I cannot turn back time. I will merely release your threads so that you may walk forward unimpeded.”

Ichigo nodded sharply. “I understand.” The black coloring receded from his sclera and his eyes were once more a warm amber. He stood and offered his hand first to Rukia, then to Hikifune to help them up. Ichibē rose last and with a gesture led them into his training space.

“Kirio-chan and I will be a safe distance away,” Ichibē assured them. He sat down on a bench along the wall and Hikifune joined him while Ichigo and Rukia walked into the sparring area.

“I guess it’s a good thing I’ve been training for the past few days,” Ichigo remarked. “I thought I’d have to fight Ichibē, but I don’t mind sparring with you again.” He smiled down at Rukia and she gave him one of her own in answer, lips curving up softly.

They stood there looking at one another for what must have been a moment too long, because Ichibē tapped his clog on the ground. “Whenever you are ready,” he invited.

As they had every morning for the past five days, Ichigo and Rukia unsheathed their zanpakutō simultaneously and Rukia released her shikai immediately. They came together in a clash of black and white that sent them both sliding back on the balls of their feet. Well-fed on Hikifune’s reiatsu-infused food, they did not hold back: Rukia performed her first dance immediately, sending a pillar of ice into the sky where Ichigo had been, and Ichigo retaliated with a getsuga tensho that Rukia dodged just as quickly.

Soon the floor was pockmarked with holes and kicked-up dirt from their fight; at one point Ichigo aimed both of his blades for a devastating getsuga jūjishō that Rukia just barely dodged and Shirayuki shouted her annoyance at both of them for being so reckless. When they were sweaty and panting from dancing around his training room, Ichibē called out, “You must use your bankai now.”

Rukia cleared her throat. “My bankai is very dangerous, Ichibē-san. Are you certain?”

Ichibē just grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

“We’ll be fine, Rukia,” Ichigo reassured. “You’ve had your bankai for a decade now.”

Rukia nodded and backed up several steps. “You first,” she invited.

Ichigo grinned and held both of his blades in front of him. “Bankai, Tensa Zangetsu,” he said, and there was a lightness to his voice that hadn’t been there in a long time. Reiatsu swirled around him, edged in black. His blades reformed into one larger, black and white blade while his shihakusho billowed into a black and white coat. Black markings formed around his wrists and white bands with red scales crisscrossed over his chest.

Ichibē just snorted. “What is _that_?”

Ichigo turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “My bankai,” he said, puzzlement in his voice.

“That’s not your bankai,” Ichibē objected. He stood and walked on his tall geta to Ichigo. “Something else is wrong here.” He circled Ichigo impatiently for a moment, then tapped on Ichigo’s blade with his own, brush-shaped zanpakutō. “I did a better job than I thought, it seems. Or a worse job. There is nothing for it.” He clattered back over to the bench and gestured at Rukia. “Continue!”

Rukia took her time, centering herself and calming her mind. Then, with her blade held before her, she murmured, “Bankai. Hakka no Togame.” Swirling white reiatsu surrounded her, and her uniform lengthened and bled of all color until she was wearing a floor-length white kimono with wide sleeves. Ornamental padding rose from her shoulders and ribbons sprang from her back in delicate loops. Jewels of ice sparkled at her décolletage and in her hair, which had bleached white. Her eyes were lavender in color. Her blade had changed as well: not just the pure white of her shikai, it was longer and looked as though it, too, was made of pure ice. The training grounds turned so cold that Ichibē and Hikifune huddled together for warmth. Ichigo just let the reiatsu swirling around him keep him warm.

He had seen her bankai once before, but in that moment Ichigo thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. Zangetsu murmured his agreement, but then he warned quietly, **That bankai is dangerous to her. Shirayuki says she still can’t hold it for long because she was bound.**

Rukia swept her blade up and deflected another powerful getsuga tensho as Ichigo leapt forward. Ice spilled out over the training grounds and a pillar of white light surrounded Ichigo. He dodged just as it froze and left half of his long coat behind as the pillar solidified and then exploded into millions of shards of white ice. They danced together across the half-destroyed grounds, his black, red-edged reiatsu mingling with the snow white of hers.

“Yes! That is exactly enough!” Ichibē exclaimed from the sidelines, although his teeth were chattering in the cold and his lips were blue. “ _Paint it black, Ichimonji!_ ”

The tenor of the room changed, then, and Shirayuki shouted a warning into Ichigo’s head as Rukia began to bring her temperature back up. Ichigo was by her side in a heartbeat, reiatsu pouring out of him to cushion and stabilize her. “Come back slowly,” he murmured. The ice coating the ground began to melt and with it so did Rukia, color gradually coming back into her face and the ice jewelry melting from her hair and crashing to the ground around her.

As they stood together, Ichibē was doing – something – with his zanpakutō, writing with the large brush in mid-air. The red thread appeared around them once more and slowly, the worst of the tangles and snarls eased away. The thread smoothed out and strengthened. There were still a few tangles, but Ichigo sensed that they were no longer “locked” as the others had been. They were tangles that he and Rukia had to decide whether to fix on their own. The thread vanished back into invisibility.

In front of him, Rukia sealed her zanpakutō while Ichigo dropped out of bankai. “You really do have the most beautiful bankai in Soul Society,” he whispered. “And one of the most dangerous, too.” Her cheeks flushed pink in answer.

“You will try your bankai again, Ichigo,” Ichibē demanded.

 _Zangetsu?_ Ichigo queried.

**Yeah - feels different. Might as well do what the monk says.**

Ichigo rolled his shoulders and then held out his blades. “Bankai. Tensa Zangetsu!” Black reiatsu swirled around him, edged in blue, and when it died away Ichigo stood tall in a long, black collarless coat that hung open down his torso and ended at his ankles. The coat split open at the waist in back, and an ice-white lining could be seen underneath. Beneath the coat Ichigo was bare-chested; black markings, like the ones he’d gained after Rukia had given him back his power, crisscrossed his skin. They matched similar markings at his wrists. His hakama looked the same as always. It was his zanpakutō that had changed the most, however: gone was the oversized cleaving blade and in its place was a daito like the original blade that had been his false bankai.

Black metal was interrupted by a line of bright blue from the tsuba to the tip of the blade, and the tsuba itself was different: black metal rays spilled out in a sun pattern. The hilt, when Ichigo looked at it, bore white crescent moon menuki on either side, and a long chain swung from the end, jingling as Ichigo swung his zanpakutō experimentally.

“That is much better, I think. And now, it is time for you to go home, Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki Taicho,” Ichibē said solemnly. “I have released you from my bindings – what you do from now on is up to you.” Though Rukia bowed in thanks, Ichigo just stared at Ichibē until the older man added, “And I am sorry for making you suffer, Kuchiki-san.”

“And the man you killed?” Ichigo asked. “His Division thinks he died by his own hand.”

The monk glanced away. “I can’t rewrite the past, as we have established, Kurosaki-san.”

Hikifune clapped her hands. “We’ll need to go back to my palace for your funny little contraption,” she announced. Ichigo dropped out of bankai, and he and Rukia followed her back to the catapult to endure another trip through the air. When they landed near the transport Urahara had built, Ichigo grinned.

“I don’t know how Urahara did it, but I guess he managed to figure out a way to break through the barriers,” he said.

Hikifune just laughed. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Kurosaki-san. Urahara’s invention would not have landed here without permission from one of the Zero Division members. As it happens, I wished you would visit me.” Her lips pursed. “I will leave the invitation open for another visit. I want to see your adorable children!”

Then she ushered them into the transport, and Ichigo followed the instructions that alerted Urahara to the need to send them back. The transport lifted into the air and dived back down at a ridiculous rate of speed that plastered Rukia and Ichigo to their seats.

The transport landed surprisingly gently back on the rooftop of Urahara’s lab, and the ex-captain met them as they clambered out of the metal cone. “Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki-san!” he greeted, fan waving lazily in front of his face. “Come inside, quickly, and you can tell me how it went. You were gone longer than I expected!”

Ichigo and Rukia exchanged a look but they followed Urahara down the two flights of stairs and into the lab. Yoruichi and Byakuya were both waiting: the Sixth Division captain stood impassively near Urahara’s computer, while Yoruichi lounged on a chair, her feet propped up on the desk.

Urahara twirled his cane in his hand as he sat down on a chair. He leaned forward and rested his hands and chin on the top of the cane. “Well?” he asked. “You were gone for four days but I don’t see any bandages. Did you find Ichibē?”

The two Shinigami exchanged another look. “Four days?” Rukia repeated. “Are you sure? It felt like we were only in the royal realm for a day.”

Urahara perked up at that. “No one expressed a difference in the movement of time when you were last with Zero Division,” he remarked. “How very interesting.” But then he waved a hand. “Did you find the Monk?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo said. “He fixed whatever was still keeping us tangled up. Said he couldn’t turn back time, but that we can “move forward” on our own now. We didn’t even have to fight him,” he said ruefully. “We landed in Hikifune-san’s city first, and she took us to Ichibē herself.”

“Good! Then I guess everything’s fixed and you won’t be using our Senkaimon without permission again?” Yoruichi teased.

Ichigo ducked his head. “That was Zangetsu,” he reminded. “And…not everything is fixed. It’s just fix _able_ , I guess.” He could sense Rukia looking at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“Hn. I will inform Kyōraku Soutaicho,” Byakuya stated. He looked between Ichigo and Rukia silently for a moment. “You will both join me for dinner this evening. There is much to discuss.” Then he was gone in a sweep of his haori.

“I need to see Ichika,” Rukia said into the ensuing silence. “And Sentarō. I did not expect to be gone for so long.”

Ichigo grimaced. “It’s been nine days since I was in the World of the Living. If In…Orihime hasn’t figured out by now that I’m here, she probably has search parties looking for me.”

“Tessai spoke to her several days ago, Ichigo. She knows that you’re here,” Urahara said from behind his fan.

“Thanks, Urahara.” Ichigo looked at Rukia, then glanced away uneasily.

Rukia turned to leave, and Ichigo followed. They walked back to the Kuchiki Manor. It was already late afternoon by the position of the sun in the sky; by the time they reached the manor the sun was beginning to set, its dying rays turning the world golden.

Ichika met them at the gates and as soon as the guards let them in, she threw herself on Rukia, laughing her happiness at seeing her mother again and exclaiming, “I have shikai! I have shikai!” As Rukia’s eyes met Ichigo’s in open concern, Ichika threw herself on Ichigo as well and hugged him around the waist. “I know her _name!_ ”

“Ichika-chan,” Ichigo finally said, and if there was pain in his chest, he tried not to show it in his eyes as he suggested, “Let’s go inside. Rukia and I would be honored to see your zanpakutō and learn her name.” The bright red color was further away from the roots than it had been a few days ago, and hair similar in color to Ichigo’s was starting to peek through. Ichigo wondered silently if Ichibē’s power had done it somehow – but shook away the thought as ridiculous.

Ichika nodded emphatically and let go so that she could run through the grounds. Rukia and Ichigo followed more sedately, although Rukia kept an eye on her – their – daughter. “It seems too early for her to know her shikai,” Ichigo said quietly. “Do all children born to shinigami parents learn so early?”

“Hn. This is _very_ young, but then, with her parentage…” Rukia glanced up at Ichigo. “I’m not so surprised.”

“Kaasan! Come, come look!”

Ichigo grinned down helplessly at Rukia. “We’d better catch up before she releases her shikai without you,” he prodded. Rukia managed a smile at that, and they hurried into the courtyard where Ichika was perched on a bench. She leapt up and stood on the bench when they appeared.

Ichika unsheathed her zanpakutō with a flourish, and as Rukia and Ichigo gamely watched, she announced, “Rise, Tengoku no Shiragetsu!” Ichika raised her zanpakutō high and the blade turned a brilliant white. Curved black spikes spilled from the tsuba and the hilt darkened to pure black, while a black ribbon spilled from it.

The Shinigami apprentice jumped down from the bench and held her zanpakutō out for her audience to examine. “See?” she said. “Isn’t she pretty? I sat _jinzen_ whenever I wasn’t with my tutor while you were gone, and this morning she told me her name and how to awaken her.”

Up close, it was apparent that the tsuba had turned into a black sun, similar to the menuki that had decorated the hilt in the blade’s sealed form and _very_ similar to Ichigo’s blade in bankai. Rukia looked as pale as the blade, and Ichigo wasn’t much better. “Kaasan? Kurosaki-san?” Ichika’s voice prompted. “Is it…is it a bad zanpakutō?”

The uncertainty in her daughter’s voice brought Rukia back to herself, and she ran a hand through her daughter’s hair as she beamed at her. “No, Ichika, your zanpakutō is _beautiful_. I am so very, very proud of you.” Ichika let the blade drift downward reflexively as Rukia hugged her close, whispering the words into her daughter’s hair.

When they parted, Ichigo smiled through the twisting of his heart and reached down, ruffling Ichika’s hair. “It’s a _great_ zanpakutō,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll be able to do together.”

Ichika nodded eagerly. “She’s awesome!” Then she looked at Rukia again. “Can I show Tousan? Oji-sama says he’s going to be released from the Fourth tomorrow morning.”

The words sent a sharp pang through Ichigo’s heart and he turned his head away to hide his expression.

Rukia, for her part, just smiled. “Let’s talk about it in the morning. Renji may still be tired when he gets out of the Fourth, and we need to be respectful of that. Now, do you know how to put your zanpakutō back in its sealed state?” she coaxed.

Ichika backed up a step and nodded. She held her blade perpendicular to her body and drew her hand along the length, just barely touching the steel with her palm. “ _Set_.” The blade shrank back in on itself and dulled to its usual gray steel, while the hilt returned to the black and white motif it held previously. She sheathed her sword and bowed a little. “Can we have dinner together tonight?” she asked, as if she hadn’t just shaken up her mother and birth father’s world.

“Kurosaki-san and I are having dinner with your Oji-sama tonight, and unfortunately it’s going to be a very _boring_ dinner about business,” Rukia explained with false cheer. “But let’s have breakfast together tomorrow, and we can have dinner together tomorrow night, alright?”

At Ichika’s hesitant nod, Rukia added, “I bet Kiyone-san would love to have dinner with you tonight, and you haven’t seen her in a few weeks, have you?” That brought back the smile to Ichika’s face. “I’ll send a message to her and have her come here.”

Rukia sent Ichika running off while she retrieved and sent a hell butterfly to Kiyone. Once Ichika was out of earshot, however, she looked at Ichigo, who sat down on the bench Ichika had been using and buried his head in his hands. “Ichigo…”

Her voice prompted a bark of laughter from the substitute Shinigami. “Tengoku no _Shiragetsu?_ ” he said, and his voice held an edge of hysteria. “Rukia, her zanpakutō’s name is a melding of Shirayuki and Zangetsu! If she releases it in front of anyone, _everyone_ will know that she’s not Renji’s daughter. It’s like something out of a damned fairy story.”

Rukia was silent for a while, before she asked very quietly, “Would it be so terrible if they knew she is ours, instead?”

Ichigo looked up, and his eyes softened. He held his hand out to her, and when Rukia took it he pulled her gently to sit down next to him. “Of course not, but Ichika needs to know first, and we need to tell her – she can’t hear it from someone who would see her zanpakutō and start spreading rumors. And Renji needs to know, too.” He hung his head. “We can’t keep this from him for much longer. I don’t – he’s my _friend_ , Rukia. I don’t want to hurt him more than I already have.”

“I think that’s what Nii-sama wants to talk about at dinner,” Rukia murmured. “Maybe Ichika showed him her zanpakutō.” She sighed deeply. “I don’t want to hurt Renji either. He’s my friend as well, you know. And my…husband.” She winced at the word.

“Che. I don’t think so – she was too excited to show you first. It’s this red thread, I think. You saw how he went white when he first saw it. He has _books_ about it.”

Rukia leaned her head against Ichigo’s shoulder. “We should read them,” she said. “Urahara and my brother seemed to know something that we still don’t, even when we were sitting in front of Captain-Commander Kyōraku.”

“Didn’t we leave them with Urahara?” Ichigo’s head dropped lightly onto hers.

Rukia tucked one hand into the front of her shihakusho, and when she pulled it back out, the two slender books were in her hand. “I may have taken them. With the intention of returning them to my brother, of course.” She felt more than heard Ichigo’s chuckle. “Here, you take one and I’ll take the other, and we can switch in the morning.”

Ichigo let out a ‘hmm’ of agreement and tucked the book she pushed at him into the front of his shihakusho. They sat like that for a while, until the sun set, and it was nearly time to face dinner with Byakuya.

* * *

Ichigo returned to his guest quarters in Byakuya’s home to clean himself up before dinner. Hung up in the small closet to one side of the room were a juban, a steel blue kimono, matching hakama, and a charcoal gray haori. A silver-gray obi sat on the closet’s shelf. “Che…guess it’s that kind of dinner,” Ichigo muttered to himself. He pulled his longer zanpakutō from his back and the shorter blade from his hip and set them in the stand against the back wall, then divested himself of his uniform and washed up. There was a clean fundoshi on the shelf next to the obi, and Ichigo put that on first, followed by clean tabi socks and the juban. Once he’d adjusted the kimono and hakama to his liking, Ichigo tied the obi snugly and slipped the dark haori on over it. He tucked Byakuya’s book into an inside pocket of the haori.

He had no other shoes besides his uniform sandals, so he wiped them down and donned them. Though he felt momentarily uneasy without Zangetsu, Ichigo shook himself of it. Before the past nine days he hadn’t lifted Zangetsu in seven years. Ichigo took a deep breath and silently reached for Rukia’s reiryoku; as always, even in a reishi-saturated place like the Seireitei, he could still find her. He followed that sense of familiarity through the grounds until he reached a formal dining room. Though Rukia and Byakuya were seated they hadn’t started to eat yet. He slipped his sandals off, leaving them by Rukia’s much smaller pair, and entered the room.

“Kurosaki,” Byakuya greeted. “Sit.”

Ichigo gave Byakuya a quick nod. There was a place setting next to Rukia, and Ichigo took that. Rukia was wearing a pretty, violet kimono patterned with steel blue flowers; it contrasted nicely with the kimono that Byakuya had provided for him.

Thankfully, the older man was sitting cross-legged, and Ichigo did the same. At a gesture from Byakuya, two servants entered the room. One poured tea for each of the three diners and left a pot to one side of the table, while the other set down steaming bowls of miso soup and a platter of vegetable tempura. The first servant returned with two more platters: one of elegantly-plated sashimi and the other of colorful sushi rolls: negihama maki, tekka maki, and shiko maki.

As if all of that was not enough, a bowl of seasoned rice, a platter of grilled fish, and finally a bowl of steamed vegetables followed. Last but not least, a bottle of sake was set at the table, along with three sakazuki. As though it was not at all unusual to be presented with a veritable feast, Byakuya pressed his hands together. Ichigo hurried to do the same, and together all three said “Itadakimasu”.

It was to be an unhurried meal, Ichigo realized. Byakuya sipped his soup as though he had nowhere in particular to be and Rukia did the same. The first part of the meal was quiet, in fact, with only the occasional sounds of slurping and chopsticks softly clacking. When the empty soup bowls had been swiftly removed by a servant and they were alone again, Byakuya casually served himself several pieces of the negihama and tekka maki before he looked up and focused on Ichigo and Rukia. “My niece has achieved shikai,” he said. Apparently, Ichigo had been wrong about whether Ichika had shown off her shikai to her uncle.

“Yes, Nii-sama,” Rukia agreed. “Ichika shared the news with Ichigo and I earlier today.”

“Then you know that it will be impossible to keep up the lie that Ichika is Lieutenant Abarai’s daughter.” It wasn’t a question.

Rukia shrunk in on herself, but Ichigo’s hand found hers beneath the table. “Yes, Nii-sama.”

Byakuya seemed to stifle a sigh. “I am not reprimanding you, imouto.”

That made Rukia’s cheeks heat, but she nodded firmly. She poured a small amount of soy sauce into a little bowl by her place setting and reached for a piece of translucent pink hamachi with her chopsticks.

It was Ichigo who spoke up. “What options do we have? Rukia and I agreed earlier that Ichika and Renji both need to be told before they hear it from anyone else.”

Byakuya chewed a piece of his maki carefully and swallowed before answering. “I agree that Ichika and Renji must be told first. The Kuchiki elders will also need to be informed. However, you will need to decide what _you_ want to do.”

Ichigo and Rukia exchanged a look. “I am not sure what you mean, Nii-sama,” Rukia finally said.

Her brother eyed their arms, which obviously led to still-joined hands. “While obviously there is nothing we can do about the fact that you married Lieutenant Abarai while carrying Ichika, it is inappropriate for you to have such a close relationship with one another, married to other spouses as you are.” He observed the flurry of hands returning to a safer distance, and sighed. “If you are happy in your marriage, Kurosaki, then you must return to your wife, regardless of what memories may have surfaced. If you are not…”

Ichigo looked down at his plate. “She doesn’t even know any of this has happened.”

“You do not need to make any decisions today. And you should not base those decisions solely on your memories of the past,” Byakuya admonished.

Rukia was looking at her brother as though he’d sprouted an additional appendage. “Would… would the elders even permit such a thing?”

Byakuya picked up his cup of tea and sipped contemplatively. “Their opinions are of no consequence in this matter. Fate is not something that can be brushed away.” He paused and glanced at Ichigo. “And your heritage would likely be appealing to them.”

“I suppose it would be,” Ichigo said quietly. His tone was subdued. **What _now_?** Zangetsu demanded. **He’s practically giving you permission to f---** Ichigo thought _Not now!_ before the zanpakutō could finish the word, but it was too late: Rukia’s cheeks were flaming red and Byakuya was looking at them both with interest.

“I take it your zanpakutō has an opinion. Do you both hear one another’s spirits regularly now?” he asked.

“Yeah – since the first time Zangetsu forcibly pulled us both into _jinzen_ with him,” Ichigo admitted. “Shirayuki is able to do the same thing.”

“I see. And is there anything else they can do?” The Sixth Division captain was openly staring at them over his cup.

“They won’t let one of us hurt the other,” Rukia explained. “We were training a few days ago and Ichigo couldn’t dodge my attack. Shirayuki stopped my blade before it could cause damage. Zangetsu has done the same.”

“How fascinating,” Byakuya murmured. “We’ll have to make sure that Kurotsuchi does not find out.”

Ichigo shuddered involuntarily. “I don’t understand how he’s still a captain,” he muttered.

Rather than reprimand him, Byakuya’s lip curled slightly. “There have been several…interesting decisions in the past ten years,” he commented. “I certainly have not agreed with all of them.”

“Like rebuilding the Sōkyoku?” Ichigo asked pointedly. “I thought the Captain Commander _agreed_ with destroying it, considering that he helped me do it.”

Rukia ducked her head. “The new Central 46 made that decision,” she explained quietly.

Ichigo shoved a piece of vegetable tempura into his mouth; he worried that any reply would be over the line.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, making their way through sushi rolls and sashimi, and then through still-steaming vegetables and grilled fish. Eventually Byakuya filled all three sakazuki and they sipped their sake politely. He waited until Rukia and Ichigo’s cups were empty to say, “I will summon Lieutenant Abarai here tomorrow after he is released from the Fourth Division. You will tell him about Ichika then, before the girl has a chance to release her zanpakutō in front of anyone else.”

Ichigo resisted the temptation to grab for Rukia’s hand again. “Of course,” he agreed. “I think we should tell Ichika beforehand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tengoku no Shiragetsu translates to "white moon of heaven". Thank you to MugetsuIchigo for the correction!


	12. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's changed. And from the living world to Soul Society, those changes begin to reverberate.

“Kaasan?”

Orihime turned and smiled down at her son, lips pulling wide to make the apples of her cheeks stand out. Dinner was nearly ready: the rice cooker had just a few minutes left on its timer and the salmon was staying warm in the turned-off oven while she sauteed a pile of sliced vegetables. “Hm?” she asked.

“Ishida-san is here and wants to know if he can help with dinner,” Kazui explained. He was still in his dark blue school uniform, although the jacket was gone and his trousers looked a little worse for wear.

“Ah! Can you ask him to set the table?” she requested. “And then tell Yuzu-chan and Karin-chan that dinner’s ready. They’re still in the clinic.”

Kazui nodded. Then he glanced toward the living room before asking, “When’s Tousan coming home?”

Her heart sank. Ichigo had been gone for nine days without a word, just Tessai’s statement to her that he’d gone to Soul Society. Orihime huffed out a breath, but she smiled down at her son once more. “His business trip is taking longer than expected,” she lied. “I know we miss him, but I’m sure he’ll be home with us soon.”

Her son bit his lower lip. “Will he come back with gifts?” he asked.

Orihime stirred the vegetables in the frying pan before she answered cheerfully, “Maybe! So, you have to be a good boy if you want him to give them to you!”

“Yes Kaasan!” Kazui darted back out of the kitchen before Orihime could say anything else, and over the sizzling and popping of carrots and bok choy she heard him telling Ishida to set the table before the door of the clinic swung open with a bang.

When Orihime looked up from scooping rice into a serving bowl, Ishida was standing in the kitchen. “Ishida-kun! The plates are in the cabinets on the left, glasses are on the right, and chopsticks are in the drawer to the left of the stove. Would you mind filling the pitcher with water?”

Her friend stared at her until the door of the clinic swung shut. “Why are you lying to your son?” he asked quietly, glasses glinting in the light from the pendant lamp overhead.

She cleared her throat awkwardly but didn’t hear the clinic door opening again. “Ah, it isn’t such a very big lie, Ishida-kun. Ichigo must have some business that’s keeping him in Soul Society for so long. I’m sure he’ll be back in another day or two.” Orihime tried again for a cheerful tone of voice, but it sounded brittle in her own ears – and Ishida had always been too perceptive.

“Are you, Kurosaki-san?” Ishida stepped past her to open the cabinet she’d indicated. He counted out five plates and, glancing at the pot of soup still on the stove, selected five modestly-sized bowls as well.

“Of – of course!” she exclaimed cheerfully, though the paddle she was using to scoop the rice dropped into the rice cooker with a clatter. Ishida just raised an eyebrow at her, and her expression fell. “Maybe three days,” Orihime added a little desperately.

Ishida closed the cabinet door and lifted the piled plates and bowls from the countertop. “I think,” he said quietly, “that things won’t be the same even if he does come back in two days, or three days, or five days.”

“Ishida-kun?” she asked just as the clinic door opened and the chatter of Ichigo’s younger sisters filled the living room.

“Something’s changed,” was all he said, and carried the dishes to the table.

They sat outside after dinner again, while the Kurosaki sisters watched a baking competition with the volume on low. This time Ishida had accepted her offer of a beer, and they sat outside drinking from long-necked green bottles. It was still hot outside, and the glass bottles were soon covered in condensation from the night air.

“What did you mean?” Orihime finally asked when Ishida set his half-empty bottle on the little glass table between them. When he tilted his head in inquiry, she added, “You said something’s changed.”

“Ah.” He didn’t look at her but focused instead on the night sky above them. “Chad called me this morning.”

She blinked at him and took another sip of her beer. “He did?”

“He wanted advice on how to break his contracts. He’s quitting boxing.” Ishida picked up his bottle and took another long pull. “He was crying, Orihime.”

 _You called me Orihime_ , she wanted to say, but instead she tucked her legs up to her chest and asked, “Why?”

“He made a vow to his grandfather when he was still a kid, that he wouldn’t fight unless it was to protect someone else. Kurosaki was baffled when he started boxing for money after high school,” Ishida said quietly. “When Chad and I spoke this morning, he said that he had a dream of his grandfather and that the old man told him that it was time to honor his vow again.”

Her mouth dropped open and she set her drink down on the table with a loud _clink_. “He’s giving up his career because of a _dream_?” she said incredulously.

“A career that, before Yhwach, he would never have chosen in the first place,” Ishida pointed out. He was looking at her from the corner of his eye when she shivered. “And you,” he said. “Why didn’t you go to college?”

“There wasn’t any money,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t afford the tuition when my aunt refused to pay for school.”

“You were one of the best-performing students in our year. There were tuition exemptions and scholarships available,” Ishida pointed out.

“It wasn’t that simple,” Orihime protested, but she gripped her drink tightly and didn’t look at him. “Not everyone gets exemptions or scholarships. And anyway,” she said, and smiled, “I’ve been happy at the bakery, I get to try new things all the time!”

“But you didn’t _try_ ,” Ishida pointed out.

She had nothing she could say to that. So instead Orihime said with false cheer, “Well it doesn’t matter anyway, I have a family.”

Ishida raised an eyebrow at her. “Of course, Orihime,” he said, and finished the last of his beer before standing. “You’re right - the important thing is that you’re happy.”

She smiled again, the expression brittle on her face. “Happy. Of course.”

“I should get home, my rounds start early tomorrow,” he said.

If asked later, Orihime wouldn’t have been able to explain why she did it. She _meant_ to collect their beer bottles and walk back inside with him. Instead, when she rose from the chair beside his, she set her empty bottle down and grabbed the front of his shirt instead. Ishida opened his mouth to protest but she kissed him instead, lips covering his thinner ones as he windmilled helplessly before his hands came up to grasp her forearms as if to push her away.

Instead he pulled her closer, lips moving against hers and one arm dropping to wrap around her waist until they were pressed together from chest to knee. For a long moment there in the darkness she reveled in the way he _held_ her, in the way he kissed her as if he _wanted_ her. And then they pulled back to breathe and the moment shattered. “We—” Ishida took a deep breath and pushed her away, gently. “We should not have done that, Kurosaki-san. You’re _married_. I’m sorry for forgetting myself.”

“He hasn’t touched me in six years,” she whispered into the darkness as his hands fell away from her.

Ishida carefully picked up the empty beer bottles. “I see. Something’s changed,” he said again. “We should go back inside, Kurosaki-san.”

She followed him docilely when he held open the door for her, and then pretended that she hadn’t just kissed her husband’s cousin when she told him goodnight and locked the front door after him.

* * *

After dinner, when Ichigo was alone in his guest quarters, he pulled out the book that Rukia had given him. He was glad that Byakuya had served him only a single portion of sake once he opened it; the book was hand-written and some of the kanji characters were difficult to decipher.

It was readily apparent, however, that there was a reason Byakuya had gone sheet-white every time their tangled bond had appeared, and seemed deeply interested in the fact that Ichigo and Rukia’s zanpakutō could interact with one another so easily.

_Of the three pairs of shinigami bound by this thread observed by this author, all three were able to locate one another unerringly regardless of physical distance and even across separate planes. They were also able to communicate with one another’s zanpakutō and vice versa. Their zanpakutō spirits exhibited apparent romantic feelings for one another. There is some evidence that shinigami can learn to communicate with one another across significant distances using this connection._

Ichigo nodded to himself. That aligned with what he already knew; he had always been able to find Rukia, and Zangetsu and Shirayuki could clearly communicate with them both. He eyed the comment regarding zanpakutō’s romantic feelings and his cheeks heated – he and Rukia both already _knew_ about that.

_In one case observed by this author, connected shinigami were deliberately kept apart due a family feud between two minor noble houses…a few short years after both were forcibly married to others, first one and then the other died of what the families called a “wasting illness.” My observations showed a broken red thread between them. It is unclear how the bond was broken, as there are stories of such individuals finding one another after prolonged involuntary partings._

That matched up as well – disturbing as it was, Urahara had told them both that if Ichibē didn’t fix what he’d broken they would die.

_Despite the rarity of these couples within the Soul Society, the Noble Houses agreed following the previously mentioned case that such couples must **not** be kept apart. The heads of the five most prominent houses decreed that any person or persons interfering with the red thread of fate, or assisting someone in interfering with this phenomenon, would be guilty of a capital offense. _

Ah. That must have been what had created such a strong reaction in Byakuya. “Did Ichibē not know?” Ichigo whispered. “Did he consider himself above the law?” Ichigo decided that either explanation was plausible. The passage put Byakuya’s behavior in a new, more logical light, however: trying to keep them apart would be breaking Soul Society’s laws.

Ichigo closed the thin volume and tucked it away on a shelf, then unrolled his futon, blanket, and pillow. He dressed for bed quickly, hanging the kimono and haori so that they would not crease too badly. _I’ll tell Rukia in the morning_ , he thought.

Rukia. Ichigo had focused, since he’d gotten to Soul Society, on the goal of finding out who had locked away his memories, and then on reaching Ichibē and convincing him to fix things (or beating him into doing so). But with that done, and with a plan for talking to Ichika and Renji, the biggest elephant in the room was still unresolved. He laid down on the futon and pulled the blanket over himself.

With his memories restored, Ichigo remembered what they had felt for one another. He had allowed Urahara to sever his chain of fate for her; had stormed Soul Society for her; had trained every day to get stronger for _her_. When his powers were lost after that final fight with Aizen, Ichigo had been lost as well. Rukia had fought for him, he knew; she had rallied Soul Society to empower the sword that had given him back his powers.

And then the war with the Quincy had started, and Rukia was severely wounded. They had both been swept up to the Royal Realm and received training. And they’d finally admitted what they felt for one another, had… Ichigo stopped that line of thought as his cheeks flushed red in the darkness.

The past five (well, nine) days were the happiest he’d been in the past ten years, even with all of the complications. And there were a lot of complications. He was technically still living, for one thing. He also had a wife who wasn’t Rukia. A son who _wasn’t_ Rukia’s. And…a daughter who was. That was what Ichibē meant when he said that he couldn’t undo everything. He had to decide whether he should go home – home to a woman he was fond of but didn’t really love, but who loved _him_ to excess. **Obsessed to excess** , Zangetsu corrected.

Or he had to decide that the thread was worth grabbing onto. That _Rukia_ , the woman who he had loved since he was a boy, was the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

 _Assuming that I’m even the man she still loves_ , he thought morosely.

 _Did you not see the blizzard in her soul?_ a cool voice whispered.

 _She’s married. I’m married. I have a son,_ Ichigo grumbled back. Apparently Shirayuki had decided to join Zangetsu.

 _For a little while. He hates being alone in the rain, and Rukia is…more unsettled than you tonight._ Shirayuki murmured.

Ichigo didn’t really think before he _reached_ , feeling along the red string. She was further away than he expected, all the way in the Thirteenth Division. “She’s still working,” he mumbled.

 _Yes. She won’t sleep for another few hours._ The zanpakutō changed the subject, then: _The boy._

He raised an eyebrow. _Kazui?_

_Yes. He’s older than Rukia expected. Why?_

Ah. Ichigo scrubbed a hand over his face. _I was still in college when it happened. I hadn’t seen Rukia since her wedding. I guess it must have been just after she had Ichika. I took Orihime to a party. We’d been dating for a little while but it wasn’t – it wasn’t serious._

There was a listening silence inside of him. Until Zangetsu said, **You’re so slow. Just show her** and the world tilted. Ichigo muttered, “Getting tired of you doing that,” as his head hit the pillow.

_The party was_ loud _, louder than he expected for a bunch of pre-med students. He was already starting to regret telling Haru that he’d be there. And Ichigo definitely regretted inviting Inoue to join him. She’d dressed up, wearing a pink dress with a low neckline and a fluttery skirt. Her blue hair pins were still present, though to Ichigo’s knowledge she hadn’t used them since the war._

_“Sorry,” he apologized, practically shouting to be heard over the music as Orihime winced at the thumping bass playing in the back room of the bar. “This wasn’t really what I was expecting.”_

_“Oh! It’s okay, Kurosaki-kun!” she exclaimed, smile bright and hands waving as if to ward off his apology. “It’s a lot livelier than the bakery.”_

_“Hn. I’ll introduce you to some of my classmates,” Ichigo decided. He walked ahead, pushing a path through bodies and making a space for her._

_Ishida was there, and Ichigo left her with his cousin while he got drinks._

_“Kurosaki,” Ishida greeted when he got back. Ichigo saw…something in Ishida’s expression, but just nodded in return as he handed a glass to Orihime._

_Between the pounding music and the shouts of his classmates, Ichigo already had a headache. His chest was bothering him too, and occasionally he rubbed at a spot on his sternum. They chatted, and Ichigo introduced Orihime to some of the others at the party. She brought him another drink, and there was a third, and a fourth…_

_His apartment was closer and Orihime was just bringing him home, but she ended up inside the apartment – carrying him to bed and bringing him water._

_Ichigo never remembered much of what happened after that._

_A month later, Orihime met him, shy and too-sweet, for a coffee and sipped decaf tea as she told him very quietly, “I’m pregnant, Kurosaki-kun.”_

_Zangetsu howled as the world shook and the rain turned into a deluge. And Ichigo said, “I see.” And silently decided that he would_ do the right thing _. There was a ring on Orihime’s finger in less than a month and they signed the registry papers not long after that. She wore a loose dress to hide the fact that she was starting to show._

“Just the once?” Shirayuki asked, voice puzzled when Ichigo resurfaced in his inner world. It was still raining, though not as heavily as the last time he’d been here, and she held an umbrella over her head and Zangetsu’s. They were standing as close together as lovers, his hand in the small of her back.

“Uh. I mean…sometimes after we got married, early on. But just the once before she told me,” Ichigo explained.

“How interesting,” she remarked, and glanced up at Zangetsu. “Do you remember what happened?”

Ichigo’s zanpakutō made a face. “It wasn’t like it was with him and the Queen, when you came to me and we…” Ichigo’s eyebrow raised as Zangetsu actually _blushed_. “Anyway. It was already raining. With the pretender, this whole place went dead silent and then flooded.”

“Hn. And the boy was born forty weeks afterward, the normal gestation time for humans?” Shirayuki queried. She glanced at Zangetsu again.

“Uh. He was early, I guess.” Ichigo shrugged and glanced up at the sky. Some of the clouds looked lighter, less threatening than they had before.

“How early?”

“Weeks. I was studying full time and working a lot so with the all-nighters it was kind of a blur, but I remember there was a lot of concern. But the doctors said he was perfectly healthy, and big for someone born pre-term.” Ichigo shrugged again.

Shirayuki pursed her lips. “I see. Thank you, Kurosaki-san. You should get some rest.” Before Ichigo could protest he vanished, and she turned once more to her lover. “Do you think this girl would have been capable of what his words imply?” she asked.

Zangetsu wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him as the umbrella turned over their heads. “I didn’t think so – she’s not _crafty_ like that. And he could have gotten the dates wrong.” But he held her tight as he said quietly, “But the kid’s never smelled like him.”

“You don’t call him the prince,” Shirayuki pointed out as her arm wrapped around his waist.

“No.”

“Could the monk have interfered?”

“Maybe. I still think we should have killed him,” Zangetsu growled faintly.

* * *

Morning came quickly. Ichika burst into his room again and shouted her excitement at the fact that Shiragetsu had promised to teach her an attack soon. She’d run from the bedroom before Ichigo could do more than smile at her, but it prompted him to get ready for the day. There was another fresh uniform waiting for him – he found it a little unnerving that the servants could get in and out without waking him. He dressed quickly and, as promised, met Rukia and Ichika in the more casual dining space. Byakuya joined them after a few minutes, and they ate breakfast together in peaceable silence except for Ichika’s occasional interjections about her newly awakened zanpakutō.

Finally, breakfast was cleared away. Ichika bounced out of her seat, but Byakuya stilled her with an upraised hand. “Ichika, before you see your tutor this morning there is something we must discuss.”

Perhaps sensing the seriousness in his tone, the girl immediately sat back down on her cushion in _seiza_ and looked between Byakuya and Rukia.

Rukia already looked tense – and tired. There were deep shadows beneath her eyes. “Ichika, there is a reason that Ichigo – Kurosaki-san – and I disappeared four days ago,” she began. “It was because something had been done to our memories a long time ago, before you were born, that made us…forget certain important things.”

Ichika nodded slowly. “Like your bankai?” she asked.

Rukia’s lips curved in a slight smile. “Something even more important than that. We were forced to forget that before I married your Tousan, Ichigo and I were…together.”

“Together like _kissing_ together? Gross,” Ichika decided. Ichigo exchanged a look with Rukia; Byakuya looked rather constipated but simply took another sip of his tea.

“Yeah, something like that,” Ichigo confirmed. “The thing is…when we were together, we created a child. And I was forced to forget that she was mine. Rukia was forced to forget that I was the child’s father.”

Ichika tilted her head. “I thought you couldn’t create babies unless you were married. And does that mean I have a half-sister?”

The back of Ichigo’s neck heated and Rukia looked even more nervous than she had a minute ago. “Ah…well, you really _shouldn’t_ create babies unless you’re married but sometimes it happens anyway,” Ichigo explained. _I am really not ready to have ‘the talk’ with Ichika,_ he thought.

“What Ichigo is trying to explain is that we created _you_ , Ichika,” Rukia finally said. “You’re our daughter, together, and Ichigo is your biological father.”

Ichika’s reiatsu spiked impressively for an eight year old, and she rose from her cushion red-faced. “No he isn’t! Tousan is – everyone says I have his hair!”

Ichigo’s chest tightened, but he knew he should have expected it. “I know that he loves you,” he said, striving for the calm tone he used with his more belligerent patients. “I don’t want to take away what you have with him. But Rukia and I felt it was important for you to know what happened, because it’s going to be clear very soon that Renji didn’t…help create you,” he explained, and the last words sounded a little helpless. “Your zanpakutō’s name and what it looks like will make that obvious.”

“You’re lying to me!” Ichika had her zanpakutō out and pointed at Ichigo, who just smiled sadly.

“I don’t have a reason to lie, Ichika. I’m very sorry that I couldn’t be here for you and Rukia. But a…person who thought he was doing the right thing did something very wrong instead.”

Ichigo’s tone seemed to be working: Ichika lowered her blade and sheathed it, and the color in her cheeks was dying down. “If you were together when you made me, why did you marry Tousan, Kaasan?” she asked quietly. “Isn’t that wrong?”

Rukia looked down at the table. “It _is_ wrong,” she agreed. “I didn’t know that I was pregnant with you when I married Renji. The person who hurt Ichigo and I did…some other things to make it look like you were Renji’s. That’s why your hair is so bright. I was very, very sick after you were born and didn’t realize…” She grimaced. “Well, I didn’t realize any number of things that I should have. None of us did.”

“Does Tousan know?”

“I have asked Abarai Fukutaicho to join us this morning,” Byakuya told her. “We will tell him as well.”

Ichika nodded shortly and sat back down on the cushion. She eyed Ichigo. “Do I have to call you Tousan now?”

Ichigo took a deep breath. “I’d like it if we could keep getting to know one another. But you don’t have to call me Tousan unless _you_ want to. You can call me Ichigo, if you want,” he offered.

“Does my zanpakutō really look like yours?”

Ichigo couldn’t help his grin. “Well, it doesn’t look _exactly_ like mine, but they have similar names.” He pulled the shorter of his blades from his hip and laid it across his palms for Ichika to see. “My zanpakutō is _Zan_ getsu. And the attack I use most often is getsuga _ten_ sho. When I use my bankai, the tsuba looks like yours does in shikai.”

The little Shinigami leaned in. “And Kaasan is Sode no Shirayuki.” Her nose wrinkled. “Do all kids with shinigami parents have zanpakutō that sound like theirs?”

“Rarely,” Byakuya said. “Most often, while a child may have the same _type_ of zanpakutō as their parent, the zanpakutō manifests rather differently.” He glanced at Ichigo. “Your grandfather’s zanpakutō is named Engetsu, and he can use Getsuga Tensho as well, but his bankai is very different than Ichigo’s.”

Ichika perked up. “I have a grandfather?”

“You do,” Ichigo confirmed, “But he’s been…missing since the war.”

A servant in a lavender kimono stepped into the room. “Abarai Fukutaicho is here, Kuchiki-sama,” she announced.

“Show him in,” Byakuya said calmly.

Renji stepped through the door a moment later. He looked completely healed, with nary a bandage showing on the skin that his uniform didn’t cover. His bright red hair was braided neatly down his back and his forehead was partially covered by a thick, patterned white bandana. “Kuchiki Taicho,” he greeted, bowing briefly to Byakuya. His eyes looked over Rukia and Ichigo, sitting carefully apart, and then to Ichika, who leapt up and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Tousan! Are you feeling better? I have shikai now, wanna see?” Ichika spoke quickly, and Renji’s eyes widened. His hand came down to brush over her hair, and he frowned at the odd streaks of lighter color that had begun to appear amidst the familiar red.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine now, Ichika. Shikai, really?! I’d love to see it.”

“You can show him your shikai in a little while, Ichika,” Byakuya said calmly. “Sit down.”

Ichika dropped back onto her cushion and Renji sat next to her, across from Ichigo. “What is this about?” he asked. His eyes met Ichigo’s. “You gonna tell me why the—why you stormed the Seireitei?”

A look passed between Ichigo and Rukia. “Renji,” Ichigo said quietly. “You’re my friend. And I…wouldn’t want to hurt you. But Zangetsu took over my body. He thought that you – that everyone here – were a danger to Rukia. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, Rukia told me that,” Renji grumbled. “But why the—” He glanced at Ichika. “Why did he think that? You know I wouldn’t hurt Rukia. And anyway, it’s not like she can’t defend herself.”

Ichigo thought, _Well, the first time you saw her after forty years you tried to choke her_ , but it was an uncharitable thought that he pushed away.

Rukia cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I told you, when you were still with the Fourth, that our memories had been…tampered with,” she reminded him. “Zangetsu didn’t know who did it.”

“You’re talking like you spoke to Ichigo’s zanpakutō,” Renji said.

“I have, several times in fact.” Rukia took a sip of her tea. “He has become quite vocal. But the reason I asked you here…”

Before Rukia could finish her sentence, Ichika, apparently impatient with her mother’s prevarications, blurted out, “Kaasan says that Ichigo’s my real father.”

Rukia’s mouth dropped open and Byakuya choked on his tea. Ichigo just dropped his head into one hand.

And Renji. Renji’s skin washed of all color, the tattoos standing out even more starkly than usual. His pupils shrank and for a moment he stared at Ichika, mouth slightly open. Then he grabbed for Ichigo across the table, hand closing around his wrist in a punishing grip. “You’re _what_?” he hissed. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” He leaned up and would have gone further, but Ichigo’s eyes darted to Ichika. Renji let go of Ichigo with a little push that almost sent him tumbling backwards.

“We didn’t…” Ichigo huffed and looked at Ichika again. “Ichibē, the monk, messed with our memories. He made Rukia and I forget that we’d ever been together. That we loved each other. And then he sent some of his minions here and they manipulated the Fourth, you, and Rukia. We didn’t _know_ until I came here.” Ichigo’s voice broke, just slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Renji’s eyes were wild and his pupils shrunk to pinpoints as he focused on Rukia. “Did you know?” he asked desperately.

“No,” she whispered. “I didn’t know that I was pregnant until after we were already married.”

Byakuya was the target of his anger next. “Did _you_ know? Did you know when you asked me to marry your sister?” he demanded in a roar as the other man stared at him.

“No,” Byakuya said, voice calm though his hand clenched so tightly around his teacup that cracks appeared in the delicate porcelain. “I would have made a different decision.”

“This is why you sent me on all those missions to Hueco Mundo and the living world. You kept me away from them so I wouldn’t _know_ ,” he growled.

Byakuya stared at him. “I did not know the truth until you were unconscious in the Fourth Division,” he said. Then: “Calm yourself, Abarai.”

“I can’t –” Renji choked. He stood abruptly and without so much as a nod to Byakuya, ran from the room, tabi socks making only a slight susurrus against the wooden floors. Ichika got up and ran after him as Rukia’s head fell into her hands. When Byakuya set the teacup down on the table, it split in half and sent lukewarm tea spilling onto the wooden surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December 11 marks the start of IIHWE! I'll have three new fanfics for the occasion. If you'd like to see the prompts and maybe write something to join in the fun, click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/InternationalIchirukiHentaiDay). On Tumblr and Twitter, we're using #iihwe2020 to track posts.


	13. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a series of revelations comes the fallout, both in Soul Society and Karakura.

Ichika found Renji in a garden not far from the dining room. He was perched on a bench, doubled over with his head between wide-open legs and hands covering his face. His braid hung limply beside his head, and his zanpakutō was shoved into the ground beside him.

“Tousan?”

Renji looked up through damp eyes. “Suppose you don’t want to call me that anymore,” he said roughly. But Ichika – ever her mother’s daughter – grabbed his braid and tugged, _hard_.

“You’re my Tousan,” she insisted, and tugged on his braid a second time.

Renji sighed and patted the space on the bench next to him. “Stop trying to pull my hair out, ‘chika,” he said wearily. Ichika hopped up onto the bench and he put an arm around her, holding her against his side. “They told you all of this already, then?”

Ichika nodded against his ribcage and quietly explained what she’d been told. “Ichigo said I don’t have to call him Tousan, and that he doesn’t want to take me away from you,” she finished. She glanced up at him. “Do you love Kaasan?” she asked suddenly.

He tensed up. “What makes you ask that?” he asked carefully.

Ichika grimaced. “You said Ojisan asked you to marry her. And the way they act – Kaasan and Ichigo – is really different than the way you act with her.”

Renji gritted his teeth. “Have they been acting…inappropriately in front of you?” he asked carefully.

She shook her head against his ribs. “No, they don’t…kiss or anything like that. But their reiatsu merges all the time and Ichigo’s always looking at Kaasan like she’s some kind of…” she waved a hand expressively. “Like she’s really, really important to him. And there’s some red thing that wraps around them. It was really ratty and knotted when he started staying here, but since they got back yesterday it looks much better. Red and silky, and it only has a few knots now.”

He filed away the reiatsu and ‘red thing’ statements for later. “Your mom and I have known each other for a long time,” Renji said quietly. “We’re friends, and we’ll always be friends.”

“So you _don’t_ love her?”

Renji cleared his throat. “Friends can love one another,” he chose to say. “There are different kinds of love.”

That seemed to satisfy Ichika because she hopped off the bench quickly. “Wanna see my shikai?”

Renji smiled and straightened up a little. “Yeah, show me your shikai. I’m really proud that you’ve achieved it so early!”

When Ichika called out her zanpakutō’s name and he saw the blade, however, he had to blink away tears and shove down the voice in his head that said, _Of course, of course she is not your daughter._ _Not with that name. Not with that blade._ “Do you know what kind of blade she is? Can you use any kido with it?” he asked instead.

“Shiragetsu says that she’ll teach me soon.” Ichika sealed her blade and sheathed it again.

Renji smiled a little at the gesture. “I’m glad you know how to seal your blade. Ichigo still doesn’t know how – he walks around in shikai all the time.”

That prompted a laugh from Ichika. “His zanpakutō sounds _really_ stubborn.” She sat back down on the bench and leaned into Renji again. “Do you still want to be my Tousan?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yeah. If you’ll let me.” Renji leaned over her and kissed the top of her forehead. 

Rukia found them that way a few minutes later, and her eyes gleamed with unshed tears at the sight of them. She took a deep breath and said quietly, “Ichika, your tutor is waiting for you.”

Ichika gave Renji one last cuddle before she ran off, ignoring a call from her mother to slow down.

“Did you really not know?” Renji asked, when Ichika was out of sight.

Rukia shook her head. She took her daughter’s place on the bench, although she sat further away from Renji. “The monk manipulated all of us,” she said by way of explanation. “He…” Her hands wrung together for a moment before she could speak again. “I think he kept me sick for a long time, so no one would realize she’d already been born. I still don’t even know what he did with her hair to make it look like yours.”

His head hung down, braid swaying. “When did it happen?” At Rukia’s questioning look, Renji managed to choke out, “When was she conceived?” The resulting blush on Rukia’s face made his heart sink.

“Ah. When we were training in the royal realm,” Rukia said. She watched Renji do the mental math.

“I never stood a chance, did I?” he asked rhetorically, and Rukia ducked her head.

“I’m sorry, Renji. This isn’t – I didn’t mean for _any_ of this to happen,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for causing you so much pain.”

He stood and pulled Zabimaru from the ground. “Do you still love him?” Rukia looked up, violet eyes wet, and Renji just sighed, a defeated expression on his face. “I don’t even need to ask if he still loves you.” The tears spilled over, then, and Renji looked away. Ichigo was standing at a distance, trying not to watch them. “Did the two of you at least beat the shit out of the monk?”

That prompted a watery laugh. “No. Hikifune fed us to bursting and Ichibē agreed to fix the kido that was still affecting us. He made us spar _each other_ to generate enough power for him.” Rukia laughed again. “I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t get to freeze him solid.”

“It’s the least he deserves,” Renji agreed. He looked at Ichigo again. “Has he decided what to do about Orihime?”

“He hasn’t discussed it with me,” Rukia said quietly. “But he has a life in the World of the Living, and I suspect he wants to keep living it.”

“Che. That’s not what his face tells me. ” Renji lifted Zabimaru and rested it on his shoulders. “That’s for you two to figure out, though. I need…I need to get back to work. Paperwork’s probably up to the ceiling after nine days in the Fourth,” he said gruffly. He used shunpo to vanish before Rukia could say anything else.

She was still on the bench when Ichigo sat down next to her.

“I need to go back,” he said quietly.

Tears slid down Rukia’s cheeks, but she nodded solemnly. “I know. You have a life there, and you need to get back to it. We can…discuss how involved you want to be in Ichika’s life.”

Ichigo scowled at her. “I need to go back because I need to put things in order,” he clarified. “I disappeared from my clinic over a week ago. And Kazui…” He frowned. “Zangetsu and Shirayuki think he isn’t mine.”

Rukia startled and looked up at him. “They’ve said that?” she asked carefully. “But…he has shinigami powers, doesn’t he? He looks more like Orihime, it’s true, but…”

“He has something. But Zangetsu says he doesn’t smell like me, and Shirayuki demanded to know when he was conceived.” He ducked his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said quietly. “And I won’t ask Shirayuki if you don’t want me to. But – but Orihime’s always _loved_ you. You don’t think she would…”

“Kazui was the reason we got married.” The words were so quiet she barely heard them, and her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t even…”

“Ichigo…”

His hand lightly covered hers on the bench. “No, let me say it. It’s okay,” he told her quietly, though he didn’t look at her. “It was after you had Ichika. I didn’t know that at the time but – it was. We went to a party and I drank a lot more than I should have. I’d never been _drunk_ before. I haven’t been since. I don’t even _remember_ doing anything – just that she got me back to my apartment.” Rukia’s hand turned beneath his and she twined their fingers together, and Ichigo scrubbed his other hand through his hair again. “She told me she was pregnant a month later. And I…did the right thing.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, her hand squeezing his tightly. Until she said suddenly, “Shirayuki says Kazui was _early_. But Orihime…she wouldn’t have _lied_ to you.”

“I didn’t think so,” he whispered. “But it’s weird that I don’t remember anything. I didn’t think I’d had _that_ much. And I wouldn’t have – I don’t think we would have lasted if it hadn’t happened. But the damned monk’s right, I can’t change the past.”

“What now, then?” Rukia asked, as the wind blew through the trees around them.

Ichigo glanced over at her finally, amber eyes shadowed. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I have to think, but I can’t – I don’t think I can go back to the way it was before. Not knowing what you and I were supposed to be.”

Rukia stared at him. “You’ve been married for seven years,” she said just as softly.

“Yeah. But…Orihime and I haven’t been happy together…ever, really,” he explained patiently. “It’s like we were always stuck. My sisters still live in the house, she works part-time in the bakery. Goat-chin’s been _missing_ since the war. I had to have him declared dead when I took over the clinic. But he could still be…somewhere.”

“Have you looked for him?” Rukia asked.

“Before you got married,” Ichigo said quietly. “Afterwards…well.”

 **Afterwards he was too busy drowning** , Zangetsu growled lowly, and Ichigo ducked his head in shame.

But then he reached out and, gently, wiped away the tears beneath Rukia’s eyes. “I don’t – I’m not asking anything of you. If you want everything to stay the way it is, I’ll respect that.”

“Fool,” Rukia whispered, and tilted her face so that it slid against his palm. “Ten years hasn’t changed the way I feel about you. I don’t think even a hundred years could do that.”

Ichigo’s eyes were soft as he looked at her. “Oh?” he asked and shifted a little closer to her on the bench. “It hasn’t changed anything for me either,” he murmured, but he wiped another tear from Rukia’s cheek before he pulled his hand back to find the book in the front of his uniform.

“I take it you read it?” she asked unnecessarily. Rukia’s cheeks flushed and she seized on the book: it was as good an excuse as any to avoid what was most assuredly what her brother would characterize as inappropriate behavior.

“Yeah. It mostly matches up with what we already know, but it explains why Byakuya is being so…understanding,” Ichigo summarized. “Apparently the noble houses made it _illegal_ to keep apart two people like us after a pair of noble-born shinigami with a similar bond were kept apart and died as a result.” He smirked. “Oh, and the author thinks that most of the time, the zanpakutō spirits of a shinigami pair form _romantic feelings_ for one another.”

**Already have. And why shouldn’t I? Sode no Shirayuki is strong, and she’s the most beautiful zanpakutō in Soul Society.**

_Zangetsu flatters me,_ Shirayuki murmured demurely, _But I feel the same way he does._

Rukia’s cheeks flushed brilliantly at their words. “I suppose that’s for the best,” she agreed with a little laugh. “It’s much better than if they hated one another.” Then her expression grew serious once more. “This is such a mess,” she said quietly. “I think Renji’s more heartbroken over Ichika than over me, but Orihime…she’s my _friend_ , Ichigo.”

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice, and hung his head. “Mine too, before.”

“And we need to tell Kyōraku Soutaicho about this eventually,” Rukia pointed out when they’d been silent together for a while.

“Yeah. He left me with a standing invitation to join the Gotei 13, back then. Wonder if it’s still open,” Ichigo mused.

“But what about the clinic?” she questioned. “Didn’t you just finish studying to become a doctor? What about your _friends?_ ”

Ichigo just shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.

She didn’t ask any more questions. Their hands stayed clasped together, and it was a long time before either of them moved.

* * *

Two days later Ichigo stepped through the Kuchiki senkaimon. Ichika had come to see him off; she was a little standoffish but still waved goodbye as the doors closed. He tumbled back into the World of the Living in Urahara’s shop.

“Kurosaki-san,” Tessai greeted gravely as Ichigo stood and dusted himself off. “I am glad to see you in good health. We have been keeping your body safe for you.”

“Thanks, Tessai,” Ichigo said awkwardly. A moment later Jinta, who now looked like a young man in his late teens, dragged Ichigo’s body into the room and dumped it at his feet. “Hey!”

“What? It’s not like you were all that careful with it when you left it here.”

Ichigo grunted but focused on shoving himself back into his body. It felt a little odd after being in his shinigami form for almost two weeks. He thanked Tessai again and left the shop. He could feel his substitute badge in his front pocket; at least no one had confiscated it.

There was something new, he thought as he walked back to his house in the evening heat. He could feel the red thread stretching between the world of the living and the Soul Society. He could even feel Rukia, and had the vague sense that she was with Byakuya. He wondered if she could feel him in the same way.

Apparently Zangetsu had at least remembered his house keys; Ichigo unlocked the front door and stepped inside. He removed his shoes and dropped his keys in the little bowl by the front door as he always did, and stepped into the living room. Then he raised an eyebrow.

Uryuu was sitting on the living room couch with Yuzu on one side of him and Orihime on the other. A glass shattered; in her haste to stand, Orihime had dropped her water glass and it hit the coffee table as it fell.

“ _Ichigo!”_ Heedless of the broken glass, Orihime ran to him. Only at the last second did she realize that he didn’t have his arms out for her, and she slid to a stop on bare feet, suddenly awkward. (He’d never held his arms out for her, not even when they’d gotten married, but he’d also never been gone for almost two weeks.)

“Hi,” Ichigo said, and his voice was subdued. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

“Aa- well it must have been important!” Orihime exclaimed. “Is everything okay? You ran off in the middle of the night and I didn’t know where you were until I spoke to Tessai.”

Ichigo looked past Orihime to Uryuu and Yuzu. Yuzu just looked worried, but Uryuu – Uryuu looked angry and a little _guilty._ Oddly, all Ichigo felt when he saw him was relief. “Why don’t we talk in the backyard?” he suggested quietly.

“O-okay,” Orihime agreed softly. She followed him through the kitchen and turned the outside light on, then shut the glass door behind them. “What happened, Ichigo? You seem…different.”

Ichigo looked up at the night sky. “How often does Uryuu come over?” he asked instead of explaining. From the corner of his eye he saw Orihime blush.

“He’s had dinner with us almost every night since you disappeared,” she admitted. “He lives alone, you know,” she defended. But Ichigo just huffed out a little laugh under his breath.

“It’s okay, Orihime. You don’t have to explain.” But then he looked at her. “Are you happy in this marriage?”

“Of- of cour—”

“Don’t do that thing where you pretend,” Ichigo interrupted sharply. “Please.”

Orihime slumped and crossed her arms, shivering as though she was chilly. “I thought I could make us happy,” she whispered, and her voice was so broken that Ichigo hung his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and when Orihime looked at him with wide eyes, he added, “We weren’t supposed to be happy.”

“What?”

He gestured to the chairs and waited until she sat before seating himself. And then in fits and starts, he gave her an abbreviated version of what had happened: the memory tampering, the zanpakutō binding, the visit to the royal realm to fix it. By the time he finished Orihime’s eyes were spilling over with tears.

“How awful,” she whispered, and Ichigo had to look away. “But…but that means you can be happy now, right? That _we_ can be happy now?”

Ichigo focused on the brightest star he could find and breathed deeply. “There’s more than that. Ichika is my daughter.” He didn’t even react to Orihime’s broken gasp. “It happened in the royal realm, during the war,” he explained.

“Oh…well, I suppose a lot of things happened during the war that wouldn’t have…”

He took his eyes off the sky and focused on her. “ _Don’t._ Don’t reduce what Rukia and I feel for each other to being because of the war,” he said harshly. He could tell that Yuzu and Uryuu were in the kitchen, probably trying to listen to their conversation, and kept his voice low.

“What you… _feel_ for each other,” Orihime repeated in a horrified whisper. “What you feel…still?”

Ichigo met her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve let you try to carry our marriage for a long time, and I haven’t been able to make you happy. I haven’t even tried very hard. And you deserve real happiness, Orihime.”

She let out a single sob and Ichigo winced but didn’t reach for her. When she had composed herself somewhat, Orihime asked, “What happens now?”

He breathed in the hot night air and watched her carefully as he said, “I need you to answer another question for me.”

“Of-of course.”

Ichigo’s hands clenched into fists before he relaxed them. “Zangetsu and Sode no Shirayuki are more active now than they’ve ever been,” he prevaricated as Orihime stared at him, clearly bewildered. “Zangetsu – he’s seen Kazui.”

“I don’t understand,” she said softly, and Ichigo watched her wring her hands in her lap. She looked away from him, and Ichigo took a deep breath.

“Is Kazui my son?” he asked bluntly.

Orihime was silent for a long time – so long that Ichigo thought about repeating himself. But finally, she whispered, “I wanted him to be.”

 _I wanted him to be, too_ , Ichigo thought. His leg rocked, heel bouncing up and down on the paved ground beneath him. “How long have you known?” he asked instead.

She just looked down at her hands. “When he was born,” Orihime whispered, as tears filled her eyes and spilled over. They trailed down her cheeks and landed on her hands in fat droplets. “He was weeks early, and it was already too late.”

Zangetsu was silent, and for a moment Ichigo wondered if he’d somehow stayed in Soul Society with Shirayuki. His hands prickled all over with pins and needles, and Ichigo clenched them into fists. “You let me think for seven years that I got you pregnant,” he said quietly. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away; he could barely hear himself over the roaring in his ears. Zangetsu had _warned_ him. So why did it still feel like he’d been punched in the chest?

“I _thought_ it was you,” she whispered, and a sob worked its way out of her throat. “When I told you, I thought it was you.”

“So you lied to me for seven years. I love Kazui, I would _die_ for him. But you lied.” His voice was a harsh whisper. Ichigo had never been so conscious of being watched; of his little sister and his cousin – his _friend_ – watching them both through the glass. “Who was it, then?” he asked. His hands clenched so tightly that he could feel his nails cutting into his palms and drawing blood.

Orihime sobbed again as Ichigo looked up at the night sky. He felt – something – that wasn’t him, suddenly. A rush of _cold_ , but comforting rather than frigid, like a cold compress for a fever. It felt like _Rukia._ Then it was gone, leaving him with his sobbing wife.

**Snow lady and I can’t hold it for long yet. Sorry, King.**

It was obvious that Zangetsu’s apology was for more than whatever he and Shirayuki had tried to do. _Thanks_ , Ichigo thought.

“Uryuu,” she finally said brokenly, and scrubbed the saltwater from her face.

Byakuya had told him not to be impulsive. To think things through and not rely on feelings from ten years ago to make a decision. But this – he didn’t think Rukia’s brother had counted on this. On finding out he’d been lied to for nearly his entire adult life, that he’d been raising another man’s child. “Does Ishida know?” he found himself asking. Zangetsu was surprisingly quiet; he’d expected more gloating.

On the chair beside his, Orihime wrapped her arms around herself. “I haven’t told him,” she whispered. “It was just once. You and I were seeing each other but it was before the party.”

His hands clenched tighter, and Ichigo hissed at the biting pain and forced his hands open again. There were four red crescents cut into each palm, and blood beaded up from the wounds.

“Oh! Ichigo, your _hands_ ,” his wife said, and reached for her pins.

“ _Don’t_. You don’t get to sit there and act _concerned_ when you’ve just told me that Kazui isn’t my kid and that you haven’t told Uryuu that he’s a father,” Ichigo snapped.

She started sobbing again. They were great, heaving sobs that made her breasts bounce and her shoulders shake. He waited for her to compose herself somewhat before speaking again.

“I’m planning to accept a position in the Gotei 13,” Ichigo said quietly. “I came back to…put my affairs in order.” At Orihime’s gasp, he added, “I’m asking for a divorce.”

Her gray eyes bored into his. “So you’re just going to abandon Kazui and me? And the clinic? You worked so _hard_ for the past ten years, and you’re just going to throw it away to swing a sword around?”

Ichigo winced but didn’t look away. “I’ve raised Kazui for seven years, and I’m not going to abandon him. We can work something out. But you need to tell Uryuu that Kazui is his son, Orihime.”

“And what about the clinic? You can’t just leave your sisters to run it. They’re just nurses,” Orihime pointed out.

Ichigo huffed out a breath. “A doctor can be hired for the clinic, or I can sell it.”

“So you’ll just leave us all homeless?!”

Ichigo held up his bloodied hands. “No, of course not. It’s just an option. I would give the money to you and to my sisters. Dad used to say he was sure he could get a lot of money for it if he ever sold.”

“Ichigo…”

He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets, fingertips brushing against his substitute badge. “You lied to me, Orihime. For seven years. But even if you hadn’t – even when I didn’t know, _we weren’t happy together_ ,” he said with finality. “You deserve a chance to be happy with someone.” He pushed the door into the kitchen open, ignoring the way Uryuu and Yuzu jumped back.

Ichigo looked at Uryuu. The man had slept with Orihime when they’d been dating. Had been the one to father Kazui. And had lived alone, ignorant of that fact, for seven years. He just sighed and held the door open.

Uryuu walked into the backyard without a word and Ichigo let the door close.

“What _happened_ , Ichi-nii?” Yuzu demanded.

Ichigo occupied himself with pouring a glass of water. “It’s late, Yuzu. I’ll tell you and Karin in the morning, okay?” He brushed past Yuzu and climbed the stairs, turning to walk into Kazui’s room.

His son was asleep already and breathing evenly in the darkness. Ichigo stood in the doorway and watched him for a few minutes. Then he carefully shut the door and walked to his bedroom to find nightclothes before going back downstairs and bunking in the empty clinic.


	14. Fractured Family

Ichigo’s eyes blinked open in the darkness when the door to the room he’d chosen opened with a low creak. He sat up, expecting Orihime, but instead Ishida’s glasses glinted at him in the dim moonlight filtering in through the window on the far wall. “Ishida,” he said quietly. He tapped his phone on the nightstand and the screen lit up with the time: one in the morning. “It’s the middle of the night.”

His cousin and friend stared at him and then closed the door behind him; in the darkness, with only faint moonlight, Ichigo couldn’t see much of his expression. “She told me you want a divorce,” he said after a long moment of silence.

Ichigo reached over and turned on the table lamp, illuminating the room with pale yellow light. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“Bastard. Don’t you know how much she loves you?” Ishida growled, and Ichigo blinked up at him incredulously.

“What did she tell you?” he asked carefully and then gestured at the bed next to his. His cousin crossed the room to sit down on the edge of the thin mattress.

“That you got Rukia pregnant with Ichika during the war and think you’re in love with her.”

His jaw fell slack and Ichigo stared at Ishida, momentarily speechless. **You really think she’d tell him the truth, King?** Zangetsu prodded sarcastically, and Ichigo silently hushed him. “Is that…all she told you?”

“Pretty much. Then she sobbed for an hour before I got her up to bed,” Ishida admitted. “I cleaned up some more broken glass before I came to find you.”

Ichigo swung his legs so that his feet touched the floor and he could face Ishida properly. “Nothing about Ichibē? Or…Kazui?” When Ishida shook his head, the former substitute shinigami scrubbed his hand through his hair and explained, for the second time that night, the monk’s interference.

Ishida exhaled heavily. “I told her, two nights ago, that something had changed. Chad suddenly called me to tell me he was quitting boxing.”

 _Good,_ Ichigo thought. He’d been baffled by Chad’s decision to fight for money in the first place. “I think the monk’s spell extended beyond Rukia and me,” he murmured. “We were the targets, but not the only people impacted.” Then he looked up at Uryuu again. “You slept with Orihime when we first started dating.”

The Quincy looked away from him. “I should have…”

“Uryuu.” And Ishida looked up at him, startled by the use of his first name. “I didn’t know until tonight,” Ichigo said. Then, hearing the thread of desperation in his own voice, he added, “Kazui is yours.”

The thin mattress crumpled under Ishida’s grip and he stared at Ichigo, jaw slack. “He’s – _what?_ ” the other man asked in a strangled voice.

“She’s known since he was born. She lied to me – to _both_ of us, for seven years.” Ichigo’s voice was low and rough as he spoke; his fingers dug into the fabric of the faded shorts he wore.

“Kur—Ichigo, are you _sure?_ ” Uryuu was still staring, and in the quiet of the clinic Ichigo heard stitches popping beneath the other man’s hands.

“Zangetsu knew.” Uryuu startled, but Ichigo just shook his head. “He was – sleeping, I guess, for a long time. When Rukia visited a few weeks ago he woke up, suddenly. That’s how all this shit happened.” Ichigo scrubbed a hand over his eyes impatiently when they grew damp. “He said Kazui doesn’t _smell_ like me. But he has light hair and Orihime’s eyes, so…”

“So no one ever questioned it,” Uryuu said dully, and Ichigo just nodded. He pretended not to see when his cousin surreptitiously scrubbed at his own eyes beneath his glasses. They sat in silence there in the clinic, lit only by the wan table lamp, for a long time. Finally, Uryuu asked, “Is that why you asked for a divorce?”

Ichigo nodded. “Why didn’t you _say_ anything? If I’d known you loved her, I…”

Uryuu scowled at him and stood from the bed to pace over toward the window. “Because all she wanted was _you_ ,” he growled at the pane of glass. “And you never even noticed. You didn’t notice her for years. Not until after Kuchiki-san got married.”

“Because I loved _Rukia_ ,” Ichigo said helplessly. “It was _always_ Rukia, until Ichibē took my memories and hers. Even after, I –” He covered his face again.

His cousin glanced back at him, glasses glinting bright in the light from the lamp. “Why Orihime, then?”

Ichigo scrubbed his hand down his face. “She asked. I was a mess, and she was there, and I thought maybe…” He looked up at Uryuu again.

“You thought maybe she could fix you.” The slender Quincy rolled his eyes. “And what about Rukia? She’s married to Abarai.”

“Hn.” Ichigo’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not really a _marriage_. Renji was angrier about Ichika than he was about me. Ichika’s upset, but I told her I didn’t want to take her away from him.”

 _That_ sparked Uryuu’s interest; the look in his eyes sharpened and he turned toward Ichigo. “And Kazui?”

“You should get to know your son,” Ichigo offered. “And he should know the truth.” Then he glanced at his phone. “It’s almost two in the morning. I need to get some sleep. You should, too.”

Uryuu grimaced and glanced toward the other bed in the room. “Here?”

“Might as well. Breakfast’s going to be awkward, though.”

Uryuu just huffed at him, but he moved away from the window.

Ichigo waited until his cousin stretched out on the empty bed and set his glasses on the nightstand before turning the table lamp off. He was sure he was still too keyed up to sleep, but he drifted off quickly. At least Uryuu was a quiet sleeper.

When Ichigo woke just after seven, Uryuu was sitting up on the other bed with sleep-mussed hair and glasses perched back on his nose. And he wondered, briefly, if he’d somehow landed in one of the k-dramas that Yuzu liked so much. “I’ll uh – get you some clean clothes,” he offered. “There’s a shower in the clinic.”

Uryuu just scrubbed a hand through his uncharacteristically messy hair and nodded.

* * *

Ichigo could hear Orihime in the kitchen when he came through the clinic door, and he strode past the room quickly on bare feet, hoping to avoid her. She called his name as he hurried up the stairs, but Ichigo didn’t stop. One of his sisters was in the shower – Karin, he guessed, since he heard movement from Yuzu’s room. Kazui’s door was still closed.

His bedroom door was open and Ichigo dug through his drawers for fresh clothing. Uryuu was a little shorter and thinner than him, but he had a pair of khakis that were snug on him and a few of his shirts were on the smaller side as well.

When Ichigo straightened up, Orihime was standing in the bedroom doorway. He glanced down at the clothes in his hands and then at her. “Uryuu will be joining us for breakfast,” he said calmly. “I’m just bringing him a change of clothes.”

There were already tears in his wife’s grey eyes – and just like last night, Ichigo couldn’t bring himself to care the way he should have. He didn’t expect her to step into the bedroom and shut the door. “You can’t divorce me,” she said, voice cracking.

Ichigo set the clothes on top of the dresser and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Why’s that?” he asked.

Tears fell from her eyes and Orihime impatiently wiped them away. “Because an-an indiscretion years ago shouldn’t ruin our marriage. We’re _adults_ , Ichigo, you can’t just run away from your responsibilities because Rukia came calling.”

 **Some fuckin’ nerve,** Zangetsu growled, but Ichigo just arched an eyebrow. “Rukia doesn’t have anything to do with this,” he pointed out.

Orihime reared back as if struck. “Of course she does. You always went running whenever she so much as crooked her finger,” she shot back, tears still streaming down her face. Her nose was running too, and she wiped at it. “Whenever she had to go back to Soul Society you were a _mess_ , and when she married Renji you moped around for _months_. You have a wife and a family, Ichigo, you can’t just walk away from us.”

His jaw was slack and mouth open as he looked at her. “You can’t be serious,” Ichigo said finally. “You slept with my cousin. Our _friend_ , who was in love with you. And then you lied to me about Kazui. You lied to Uryuu about him, too, and never told him that he has _a child_.” He kept his voice to a low, harsh whisper. She was closer to the door, but he listened for the sound of his sisters or Kazui; Yuzu still had a bad habit of listening at doors.

“Kazui is _yours_ no matter who fathered him,” Orihime pleaded. “You can’t just abandon your child. And you _love me_ , you can’t just abandon your _wife_.”

Ichigo wondered, briefly, if he’d driven her over some kind of ledge last night. “I love Kazui. And I don’t want to abandon him,” he allowed. “But—” He grimaced; Ichigo didn’t want to hurt her, but he said the words anyway: “I haven’t ever been in love with you.”

A shocked gasp left Orihime’s mouth as Zangetsu whistled inside him and said, **Jeez, King. Didn’t think you’d say it.** Still, another wave of ice-cold comfort wrapped around him for a moment and calmed him. _Thank Sode no Shirayuki for me_ , Ichigo told him as he looked at Orihime.

Fresh tears streamed down his wife’s cheeks and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes you have,” she insisted. “You made love to _me._ You married _me_. You’ve always provided for our family. You’ve just been tired because of work and getting your medical degree and license.”

“I don’t even _remember_ having sex with you that first time,” Ichigo pointed out bluntly. “Even Zangetsu doesn’t; he just remembers silence and a flood. I married you because you told me that I got you pregnant, because you _lied_ to me. Whether it was wishful thinking or deliberate, you still _lied_ , Orihime.”

“Your – your zanpakutō loves me,” Orihime insisted desperately, “So that means you do, too. He protected me when you couldn’t, in Hueco Mundo.”

Zangetsu snorted, loudly. Ichigo just stared at her, totally baffled. “What are you talking about? He nearly killed both you and Uryuu. He took over because I was _dead_ , and you were terrified of him.”

“But he – he killed Ulquiorra for me!”

 **I think you broke her, King,** Zangetsu rumbled.

Ichigo shook his head. “That’s not why he killed Ulquiorra. But talking about something my zanpakutō did when I was _fifteen_ – it doesn’t change anything, Orihime. I’m not in love with you, and I’m not going to live this half-life where you pretend we’re a happy family and I sleep on the couch or in the clinic _because I can’t bear to touch you.”_ The minute he said the words he wanted to take them back – not because they weren’t true but because they were _cruel_ , and he’d never wanted to be cruel to her.

Orihime’s face crumpled and she sobbed brokenly, arms wrapping around her stomach as though it ached. “I’m not going to just _agree_ to a divorce,” she managed to say, gasping between each word.

Ichigo took a deep breath. “That’s your choice,” he agreed calmly. “I can petition in family court instead. It’s harder that way for both of us, but I can do it. But I can’t stay married to you, Orihime.” He picked the clothes back up from the dresser and stepped around her. “I need to bring these to Uryuu.”

“You can’t just—”

He didn’t turn to look back at her; Ichigo just opened the door of the bedroom and stepped back into the hallway. Kazui’s door was still shut – a small mercy, even though the boy was going to be late for breakfast.

Breakfast was awkward. Ichigo finally handed over his spare clothing to Uryuu, and they took turns quickly showering in the clinic’s bare-bones bathroom before walking into the dining room together. Yuzu didn’t look surprised to see Uryuu still there; in fact, she’d already set the table for six people.

Kazui ran downstairs just as Ichigo finished pouring coffee and sat down at the table calmly enough. Orihime was still upstairs, and they all waited several minutes in awkward silence before Ichigo glanced at Kazui and said awkwardly, “We should get started before everything gets cold.”

Uryuu eyed him suspiciously and Ichigo grimaced. But he just said, “Itadakimasu,” a word repeated around the table, and they all started to eat.

Orihime appeared halfway through the meal, eyes puffy and red-rimmed. She sat down next to Karin, across from Uryuu and Yuzu, and silently served herself from the bowls and plates of cooling food. Not a word was said around the table as rice and fish were consume and coffee drank until finally, Uryuu set down his chopsticks across his plate and nodded politely to Yuzu.

“Thank you for breakfast,” he said quietly. “I have to get to the hospital for my shift.”

Ichigo nodded, but put a hand up to stop him. “Come back for dinner,” he requested, aware of the way Orihime and Uryuu both stared at him; he was aware, too, of the way his sisters were watching him and Kazui was looking at him wide-eyed. He wished, suddenly, that Rukia had come back with him. But she had her duties – not to mention sorting things out with Renji and Ichika – and he didn’t know what Orihime would have done if she saw her.

Uryuu blinked at him behind the thin lenses of his glasses. “Of course,” he said after a moment of strained silence. “I’d be happy to.” He stood and carried his dishes into the kitchen; when he returned to the dining room, he bowed briefly and then gathered his belongings. The door shut behind him with a soft click.

Ichigo glanced at Orihime and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word she practically bounced out of her chair and began to gather plates. With false cheer she said, “Kazui, come help me put the dishes away!” and hurried toward the kitchen, long hair flaring out behind her and the pins in her hair sparkling.

Kazui looked up at the man he knew as his father but Ichigo just let out a breath, shoulders slumping. “Go ahead, Kazui,” he said, and watched him climb down from his chair and gather up a few bowls before walking into the kitchen after his mother.

“You were in Soul Society,” Karin said flatly when it was just the three of them. “With Rukia-nee?”

“Why were you _there_?” Yuzu asked.

Ichigo started cleaning up the other dishes on the table, but Yuzu – Yuzu! – glared at him. “Fine. Yes, I was with Rukia. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when we open the clinic.”

Karin scowled at him. “The clinic that you _abandoned_ for almost two weeks? You’re as bad as Goat-chin.”

“Hn.” Ichigo piled up the rest of the dishes and chopsticks, and Karin started to gather the glasses and mugs.

“Is Rukia-nee okay?” Yuzu asked softly.

Ichigo swallowed uneasily and glanced toward the kitchen. “She will be.”

The twins waited until the clinic door was shut behind them to ask anymore questions, but as soon as the heavy, sound-damping wood swung into place they herded their older brother into his office and shut the door.

“Tell us what happened,” Karin demanded. “Your _wife_ moped around the whole time and she had Uryuu-nii over for dinner every night.”

“She _kissed_ him on the patio, three nights ago,” Yuzu blurted out.

Ichigo just pressed his hand against his eyes and sighed. “I asked her for a divorce last night.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Karin muttered, but Yuzu elbowed her.

“Because Uryuu-nii kissed her?” the younger twin asked.

“Because we’ve never been happy and she lied to me for seven years – Kazui is Uryuu’s son,” Ichigo muttered, and watched as the jaws of both women dropped open.

“He’s – _what_?” Yuzu demanded. “How did that happen?” When Karin and Ichigo stared at her, she flushed red and sputtered, “I mean that she was always interested in _you_. When would she have…” She lowered her voice, “slept with Uryuu-nii?”

“When she and I were first dating,” Ichigo explained. “I was still pretty standoffish I guess.”

“And your trip to Soul Society?” Karin prompted. “Does that have something to do with it?”

Ichigo found himself explaining the whole story for the third time, from Zangetsu’s awakening to Ichika’s real parentage to the red thread.

“So we have a niece,” Yuzu said contemplatively when he was done. “Do you think Orihime will still let us see Kazui?”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “I _could_ petition for custody but – I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do for Kazui. I don’t think Kyōraku would let him stay for good, especially since he’s not…” Ichigo choked up suddenly, and he cleared his throat as his sisters watched. “Well he’s not a shinketsu, is he? His powers are probably quincy powers.”

Yuzu reached over and squeezed his hand while Karin asked, “Are you going to go live with Rukia? And she’s divorcing that redhead with bad fashion sense, right?”

He couldn’t help the snort that left his mouth. “If she’ll have me,” he agreed. “It sounded like she was going to leave Renji, when I left the Seireitei last night.” Ichigo’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t feel good about that, but – it sounded like they weren’t happy together either. Byakuya kept Renji away from her most of the time.”

Karin and Yuzu exchanged a look. “Why?” Yuzu asked. “Didn’t he _ask_ Renji to marry her?”

Ichigo just shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out, yet. But he was as upset as _he_ ever gets when he found out about everything. He apologized to Rukia in _public_.”

Karin raised an eyebrow, but she checked her watch. “We need to get the clinic open. And call tomorrow’s appointments and tell them that they can show up, unless you’re planning on running off again.”

“What _about_ the clinic?” Yuzu asked. “We can’t run it without a doctor.”

“We should talk about it,” Ichigo said quietly. “Orihime – she told me she won’t just go along with a divorce.”

Karin scoffed. “Of course she won’t. Is that why you invited Uryuu over again tonight?”

He nodded. “That and Kazui doesn’t know yet. Who even knows what she’s telling him now.” Ichigo tugged at his hair and then forcibly pulled his hand away. “We should open the clinic.”

Karin looked back at him as she opened his office door. “Did you see Tōshirō?” she asked, far too casually.

Ichigo shook his head. “Only from a distance.” And he stifled his curiosity when his sister looked strangely disappointed as she left.

Working in the clinic kept all three of them busy the rest of the day, and Ichigo found himself slammed with patients despite the fact that the clinic had been closed for days. There were fractured wrists and suspected sinus infections; there were older women from the neighborhood with minor complaints and one elderly man with a broken hip who Ichigo sent to a larger hospital in an ambulance.

There was also a _mountain_ of paperwork, and Ichigo spent every moment not with a patient working on _that_ to get overdue insurance claims processed and bills paid. By the time Yuzu slipped out of the clinic to start dinner, Ichigo was exhausted but the paperwork pile was nearly done.

* * *

Dinner was even worse than breakfast; dead silence ruled the table, punctuated only by the occasional request for a dish or refill of water and the occasional sniffle from Kazui. Orihime just shot pleading looks alternately at Ichigo and Uryuu. Karin rolled her eyes whenever Orihime’s welled up, and Yuzu focused intently on refilling dishes until only a few grains of rice remained.

“Why don’t we talk in the living room?” Uryuu suggested when he’d finished helping Ichigo carry dishes back into the kitchen.

“C’mon, Kaz,” Ichigo said, and when the boy reached up, he scooped up Kazui before Orihime could, and carried him on one hip into the living room. He was getting a little heavy to carry like that, but he just hugged him close and kissed the side of his head before setting him on the middle seat of the sofa and sitting on his right. Uryuu sat down on Kazui’s other side, leaving Orihime to reluctantly sit in one of the armchairs. Yuzu took the other, and Karin settled onto the ottoman with legs crisscrossed.

“Karin and Yuzu already know,” Ichigo told Orihime before she opened her mouth. “And I told Uryuu last night when you _didn’t_.”

Her hands wrung on her lap. “You had no right! I – I would have told him,” she protested, and looked pleadingly at Uryuu again.

Kazui was already squirming a little next to him. “Che.” Ichigo glanced over at Uryuu. He hadn’t rehearsed what he was planning to say, hadn’t spoken with Orihime about it – not after their fight that morning. “Kazui, we need to tell you something really important,” he started, trying not to stumble over the words. On the other side of him Uryuu was sitting up straight, body taut as a bowstring.

Orihime started crying before Ichigo could say anything else, and Kazui squirmed out from between the two men to dart over to his mother and climb into her lap. “Why are you upset, Kaasan?” he asked, as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Aa! Sometimes I get emotional, Kazui,” Orihime said with more false cheer as she wiped at her eyes and then kissed his forehead. Karin scoffed, but Yuzu looked away, eyes focusing on the blank television screen.

Ichigo exchanged a look with Uryuu. “Kazui, you know how every kid has a mother and a father, right?”

The boy nodded, and Orihime clutched her son until he whined in complaint and squirmed to loosen her hold on him. “Most kids. Akemi just has a mom.”

Akemi’s mother was a widow whom Ichigo vaguely recalled meeting when she’d brought the girl into the clinic for an earache two months ago. “Right.”

“Are you divorcing like Eiji’s parents?” Kazui asked.

“Oh – of course not, Kazui!” Orihime said, though she was still crying.

Ichigo scrubbed a hand through his hair anxiously while Karin rolled her eyes. “I’ve asked your mother for a divorce, yes,” he contradicted. “That’s something for us to worry about – we both love you no matter what. But the thing is, Kazui…” Orihime glared at him, but Ichigo just barreled forward and said, “I’m not your _biological_ father, the one who…helped make you. Ishida is.”

Though everyone in the room but Kazui already knew, Yuzu still put a hand over her mouth and Uryuu’s hands clenched into fists as Orihime cried into her son’s hair.

Kazui stared between Ichigo and Uryuu, grey eyes growing wider and wider. “ _No,_ ” he said, and shoved away from his mother. Orihime reached for him but he was faster, sliding off her lap and running up the stairs before anyone could stop him.

Ichigo stood and held out a hand to stop his wife. “I’ll talk to him.”

Ichigo took a breath and rapped lightly on Kazui’s door. “Kazui? Can I come in?” There wasn’t an answer, and after a minute he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Kaz?”

His son – _not yours,_ a dark thought insisted and Ichigo pushed it away – was sobbing on the bed. Ichigo closed the door behind him gently. “Kazui?” he asked softly, and sat down next to him.

“Why don’t you want to be my father anymore?” the boy asked, the words punctuated by sobs. “Is it because of Kuchiki-san?”

Ah. He’d heard them that morning, too. Ichigo wrapped an arm around Kazui and hugged him close. “I love being your father,” he said quietly. “It’s been the best part of the last seven years.”

“Then why don’t you _want_ that anymore?” Kazui scrubbed at his runny nose and Ichigo grabbed for a tissue on the nightstand and held it up to the child’s nose.

“Blow,” he instructed, and Kazui’s hands came up to brace the tissue before he did as told. Ichigo dropped the soiled paper in the wastebasket. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ that. You remember how you said Akemi doesn’t have a father?”

A hesitant nod.

“Akemi’s father died when she was very small, but he…created Akemi with her mother first.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his own awkward phrasing. “Remember how your Kaasan carried you in her body for nine months?”

Another nod.

“Fathers have a different role, and in this case, Ishida…”

**Seriously, King, aren’t you a doctor? Just say it.**

Ichigo grimaced at Zangetsu’s taunt but took a deep breath. “Ishida is the one who helped create you. But neither of us knew that until now,” he finished.

Kazui scrubbed at his grey eyes and looked up at Ichigo. “Is that why you called her a liar?” he asked.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. I was very angry with her, because she didn’t tell the truth,” he admitted.

“Do you hate her now? Do you hate _me?_ ” Kazui’s eyes filled with tears again, and his squat, small body was trembling.

Ichigo wrapped an arm around him again and hugged him close. “I’m still very angry,” he said softly, and kissed the side of his head. “But that’s not your fault, and I couldn’t _ever_ hate you. I love you, and that won’t change no matter what, okay?”

The boy leaned into him and Ichigo rubbed his back lightly. “But – you really want to divorce Kaasan? Eiji’s parents got one and he gets mad all the time because he can’t see his dad anymore. My teacher says he’s lashing out.”

“Ah.” Ichigo took a deep breath. “I do, but I want to stay in your life.”

“Do you want to marry Kuchiki-san instead? When she came here there was something weird around you – this red yarn was all tangled between you. It looked really beat up.”

Ichigo blinked, surprised that Kazui had seen that. _Wonder if it’s normal for kids to see stuff like that_ , he thought. He felt Zangetsu give a shrug. “Ah,” he said. “That’s a longer story. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Kazui burrowed closer, and Ichigo held him tight for a while longer, lips pressed to the crown of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that there's an IchiRuki Discord Server? Let me know if you want a link to join us! There's fun, fics, a bot that randomly spits out IchiRuki pictures, and enough salt to season your food for the next 50 years. Please note this is an 18+ server; while there are separate channels for NSFW content, we do expect all participants to be at least 18 years of age. But then - hopefully you're not reading this message unless you're over 18 since this fic is not intended for kids!
> 
> I originally wanted to have this fic wrapped up by the end of the year, but it looks like I'll be writing this into early 2021. There should be another chapter before 12/31 though.


	15. Clearing Out the Past II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Untangling takes time, but it's worthwhile.

Not for the first time, Ichigo was equal parts grateful and irritated that Urahara always seemed to know _everything_ that went on in both Soul Society and the World of the Living. Just four days after his return to the World of the Living, the shopkeeper summoned him with a brief phone call and a request: “Come over this evening; I have someone here who you should meet.”

Ururu brought cups of tea with a little bow, her expression still shy but her childish pigtails long since replaced by a sleek bob. Once she was gone, Ichigo raised an eyebrow at Urahara and the suited young man across from him. “What’s this about?” he asked.

Urahara smirked, the scars on his face pulling with the motion, and sipped unhurriedly from the narrow clay teacup in one hand. “So impatient,” he chided gently. “I wanted you to meet one of my associates, Onishi Kenzo. Onishi-san is a lawyer with significant experience in family law and divorce cases,” the older man explained.

Ichigo blinked, nonplussed. “I’m Kurosaki Ichigo,” he introduced, and received a solemn nod in return from the bespectacled Onishi. “But – how’d you know I need a lawyer?”

Onishi sipped from his own cup and glanced at Urahara. “Urahara-san informed me of your potential need earlier today, Kurosaki-san. I understand that your wife refuses to discuss a kiyogi rikon, and that there is a child of…unexpected parentage involved,” he said smoothly.

“I haven’t _told_ anyone that. I only started looking for lawyers last night,” Ichigo sputtered.

“Karin-chan let it slip,” Urahara admitted, “when she was dropping something off at the shop.” Before Ichigo could puzzle over _that_ , the shopkeeper added seriously, “Onishi-san is an excellent lawyer. And your case is complicated.”

The hand holding his cup of tea tightened. “Is it?” He directed the question at Onishi, who raised an eyebrow. “Look – I’m a doctor, but I only finished my residency recently. I still have loans.”

The fan in Urahara’s left hand fluttered dismissively, but the shadowed eye beneath his striped hat was somber. “Onishi-san’s fees are taken care of, Ichigo.”

“By who?”

When Ichigo stared at him, the fan fluttered again. “A person who wishes to remain anonymous.”

“I don’t—” Ichigo’s fingers dug into the plain khakis he wore. “I don’t like to owe debts.”

“On the contrary, this person owes _you_ a debt,” Urahara assured him. “A big one. Take what’s offered. I understand that mediation can be arduous without legal representation.”

Onishi sipped his tea. “I will need you to tell me everything you can about the situation, Kurosaki-san. Why you are seeking a divorce, all of your assets, and what you want for the child.”

Ichigo glanced Urahara’s way once more, though, and asked quietly, “Does he know about…?”

“Onishi-san knows that you are the son of a good friend, and someone I care about very much, Ichigo.”

So the lawyer didn’t know about Soul Society, then. _Someone I care about very much_ , Ichigo thought, and bowed his head briefly. “Thanks, Kisuke.”

The shopkeeper and former shinigami captain stood. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he offered, but squeezed Ichigo’s shoulder lightly before he left the room and shut the shoji door behind him.

Onishi was ready with a set of papers for Ichigo to sign outlining his engagement as Ichigo’s lawyer. When he’d read and signed everything, Ichigo refilled their cups of tea and took a deep breath. He needed to tread carefully. “When I was twenty, I started dating Inoue Orihime. She slept with my cousin, Ishida Uryuu. When she became pregnant as a result of that relationship, she told me that she was pregnant and that I was the father. I decided that I had to do the responsible thing.”

The lawyer started taking notes. “And when did you discover that you were not?” he prompted.

“Earlier this week. A few years before I dated Orihime, I was in a relationship with a different woman. She had a – very traditional family, and they stopped her from seeing me. Neither of us knew that she was pregnant.”

Onishi’s eyebrows arched. “And she had the child?” he asked.

“Yeah. A daughter, who I didn’t find out about until a few days ago either. I told Orihime about Ichika – that’s her name,” Ichigo explained softly, and then took a sip of his tea. “And then she admitted that Kazui isn’t my son. And that she’s known since he was born.”

Onishi’s pen flew across his legal pad. “I see.” He pursed his lips. “Has she had other relationships during the marriage?”

“No. At least – I don’t think she has,” Ichigo finished in a mutter. She’d always been so focused on _him._ He still didn’t even understand how she’d ended up in bed with Uryuu.

“And what do you want for Kazui?”

Ichigo scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Orihime’s a good mother, I don’t want to keep him from her. But biological or not, he’s my kid.”

“You’re aware that only one parent can have formal custody of the child?” When he received a nod in return, Onishi added, “We can request regular visitation as part of the mediation process.”

“Yeah,” Ichigo muttered, and his lawyer glanced at him before continuing.

“Tell me about the assets in your name, and what you hold jointly with your spouse.”

“It’s the house and dad’s savings, mostly,” Ichigo admitted. “My father signed the house over to me.”

“Before or after your marriage?”

“Before,” Ichigo clarified. “I was eighteen.”

Onishi blinked at him. “That’s young,” he said, and Ichigo just nodded. “Did you pay taxes on it?”

Ichigo hummed under his breath. “Yeah, we took care of all that.”

“He disappeared right before I graduated from high school. We looked for him, me and Urahara-san. I uh – had to have him declared dead three years ago, to be able to get access to his savings for my sisters and manage the clinic.”

“And what do those savings look like now?”

“A hell of a lot smaller than they were, but it meant that Yuzu and Karin didn’t have to take on debt to go to college. I have loans, but just from medical school, and a little savings of my own.” Ichigo named a figure that Onishi wrote down.

“Is there anything else?”

He shrugged. “There’s the car – it’s not worth much, it’s almost fifteen years old. And there’s the furniture and stuff in the house.”

“How much of it predates your marriage?” Onishi asked.

“Almost all of it. We didn’t really have a lot of money to redecorate,” Ichigo said with a shrug. In fact, it had never come up as a topic of discussion, Ichigo thought. They really had been _stuck_.

The lawyer just nodded once more and asked, “Do you have a sexual relationship with your daughter’s mother?”

It nearly made Ichigo spit his tea out, and then he choked with the effort to swallow it. “ _No_ ,” he said through the coughing fit to dislodge the drops of tea that had gone down his windpipe. “No,” he repeated more calmly. “We didn’t even speak for years – her family kept us apart.”

There were other, even more personal questions, and the tea pot was empty long before Ichigo’s new lawyer finally put away his legal pad and pushed his card across the table. “I’ll begin the filing process and will be in touch, Kurosaki-san. In the meantime, I advise you not to attempt to hide or dispose of any assets other than what is necessary for your living expenses.”

Ichigo just blinked at him. He was moving to Soul Society; it hadn’t even occurred to him to try and keep anything from Orihime. “What about old clothes and things like that? I boxed up my father’s stuff but never got rid of it, in case he came back.”

“Hn. For now, you shouldn’t get rid of anything,” his lawyer muttered as he closed up his briefcase.

* * *

Rukia sat in seiza, the layers of a formal kimono draped around her. The room she sat in was the most opulent in the manor; hand-painted silk decorated the walls and the tatami mats beneath her legs were well-padded. It was just as well; she expected that she would be here for quite some time.

“You have petitioned for an _annulment_ of your marriage, Abarai Rukia,” a sharp, old voice snapped from her left. The word _Abarai_ was a shock to her ears, a reminder that she had taken Renji’s name upon their marriage. It was a reminder of that strange time in a strange room, a few minutes that had shaped almost ten years of her life.

She took a breath, and her eyes focused on the speaker: Kuchiki Eiko, an elder of the clan and one of the men who had opposed her adoption. The opulent black and gold kimono he wore draped over an ancient frame; he looked, she thought, older than Yamamoto had. “I have,” she agreed.

“You have brought nothing but _dishonor_ to this clan,” the woman next to him snapped. Kuchiki Hideyo was even more ancient, gnarled and crumpled in her pink robes.

Beside her, Byakuya stiffened. “Rukia,” he said calmly, “is a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and a hero of war. She has brought _only_ honor to this clan.”

Hideyo sniffed. “Pregnant out of wedlock, married to another worthless Rukongai brat, and now she wants to _annul_ the marriage and pretend none of it happened.”

Within her sleeves, Rukia’s hands turned to fists, and she kept control of her reiatsu only by a thread. It surprised her when Byakuya’s own control slipped and the sharp anger of his powers shot through the room before he controlled it. “As my petition explained, the marriage was deficient from the outset,” Rukia got out.

“Members of this clan do not _divorce_ ,” Eiko snapped. “You made the choice to lie with a dog, and you will live with that.”

Her reiatsu, ice-cold and strong, blanketed the room and beside her, Byakuya’s did the same, pinning the elders to their chairs and causing one or two to struggle for breath. “The _choice_ I made,” Rukia said, voice low and tense, “was taken from me by the interference of the Zero Division, as has already been explained to you. The marriage you forced upon me is the one I seek to annul.”

Power, warm and thrumming, wrapped around her for a long moment. It was Ichigo’s power, the power he’d used to save her so long ago. _He hurts for you,_ Shirayuki whispered, cool and gentle inside her. _Zangetsu and I can hold together across the worlds for this much._

Byakuya cleared his throat but did not protest Rukia’s words. Instead, he pointed out, “Soul Society’s laws, the laws shaped by our own clan, do not permit you to object to this annulment.”

A scoff. “The right to grant an annulment is our prerogative. What law do you claim changes that?”

Rukia focused, and the red thread looped around her before it led into the distance. There were soft gasps from the assembled clan elders. “This thread leads to the man who is the father of my child, who would have been my partner years ago if not for the meddling of the Zero Division,” she snapped. “Soul Society’s laws state that it is a _crime_ to keep those bound by such a thread separated. Do not,” Rukia warned, “forget the reason for that law.”

Oh, she knew that too, had researched it before this meeting. The dead woman in the old story was a _Kuchiki_.

“You are right to take us to task, Kuchiki Taicho,” a soft voice said into the tension. “It is easy to forget what is _right_ when we are focused on what is proper.”

She exhaled, and regained control of herself. “Sayuri oba-san.” Rukia’s voice was quiet. “I am fated to be with Kurosaki Ichigo. Please do not stand in fate’s way.”

“The ryoka? First a brat from the Rukongai and now a boy who doesn’t even belong here!”

Byakuya shifted his weight. “Kurosaki saved us all,” he reminded his elders. “He is a war hero and sacrificed much. He is also a _Shiba_.”

It was like sending a bull through a narrow street, and Rukia wondered at the way they had called _her_ unrefined and undignified when nearly all of them were screaming to be heard over the din. It didn’t stop until Byakuya’s reiatsu bore down on them again, so heavy that even Rukia struggled.

There was more huffing, more sniffing and picking at kimono fabric as they conferred, but finally, Eiko said grudgingly, “We will grant our permission for the annulment, and for Abarai Ichika to take on the clan name.”

Rukia lowered herself in a brief bow.

* * *

In the World of the Living, the situation in the Kurosaki household devolved quickly.

Ichigo presented Orihime with the paperwork for both a mutual divorce and a mediated divorce in less than a week, in his office in the clinic so that his sisters and Kazui couldn’t hear. “I can make this as easy for you as I can,” he’d told her, “or we can do it the harder way. But I’m going to end this marriage. I have a lawyer to represent me in the mediation, and if you want to go down that path, you should speak to a lawyer as well.”

“You mean make it easy for _you_ ,” she’d said, and ignored the paperwork set before her. When Ichigo refused to back down she’d run crying from the room – and he’d solemnly called Onishi and let him know that Orihime had refused the kiyogi rikon a second time.

Meals were no longer a family event; Ichigo ate in his office most of the time, sometimes with one or both of his sisters, and sometimes with Kazui. There was more paperwork, so much Ichigo thought he might drown in it. Though Orihime dragged her feet, Ichigo filled out everything his lawyer gave him, and waited for a mediation session to be scheduled.

There was the conversation with his sisters, late at night in the storage room of the clinic with cold beers and a chair nudged under the door. It felt like overkill to Ichigo, but Karin just glared at him and he handed over a beer without comment.

“What do you want after the divorce is final?” Ichigo asked, bottle half-empty and white coat draped over one shoulder. “The first mediation session is scheduled for next week and the lawyer needs to know what I’m going to ask for.”

Karin and Yuzu exchanged a look, and the older twin took a swig of her beer. “I’m almost done with my masters,” Karin said with a shrug. “If you’re going to sell the clinic, I can get a good job somewhere else.”

Yuzu’s bottle was almost full, and when she took a sip she made a face. “I like the other kind better,” she whined when Karin smirked at her. “But I can be a nurse anywhere, Ichi-nii. And…it might be nice to live somewhere that’s _mine_.”

Karin hummed her agreement. “Yeah, it’s convenient to live here but I feel _stuck_.”

Since it wasn’t the first time Ichigo had heard or thought exactly that, he just nodded. “So, you’re okay with selling the house and clinic?” he asked. “I don’t know what your share will be after the divorce, it might not be enough for you both to buy your own apartments.”

There was another exchange of glances. “The house is our family’s,” Yuzu said, more sternly than usual. “You didn’t buy it with her. Why is she getting a share?”

“Because she has Kazui,” Karin guessed. “And you won’t petition for custody because you’re moving to Soul Society.”

“There’s an alimony payment, too. She doesn’t make much at the bakery.” Ichigo looked away and drained the last of his beer. “I doubt Kyōraku would want a Quincy running around the Seireitei. And Ishida wouldn’t like that either,” he pointed out. “Assuming it would even be possible, long-term.”

Yuzu curled up in her chair, chin resting on her knees. “No,” she said quietly. “I guess they wouldn’t.”

Karin reached over and ruffled her sister’s hair, but Ichigo just stared down at the empty bottle in his hands.

Soul Society didn’t stay out of it, either: two weeks after his return to the World of the Living, a very familiar face appeared at the clinic doorstep.

“I don’t understand why that woman is here,” Orihime whispered from her position on the couch. She fiddled with the cup of tea in her hand and looked resentfully at Ichigo. “Can’t you tell her that this isn’t any of her business?”

Ichigo scrubbed a hand through his hair. It was getting long again, and he was thinking of letting it grow out; the shorter haircut made his forehead look enormous. “I already have,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not even sure how she found out about this.” That wasn’t entirely true – the badge had been used to listen in on him before.

At Ichigo’s request, Uryuu had come over on his day off, and the Quincy and shinigami glowered at one another uneasily. Yuzu was distracting Kazui upstairs. The “she” in question – Ise Nanao – sat perched on the least comfortable chair in the living room. Urahara was getting better at understanding human fashion – he’d given Nanao a pretty sundress patterned with pink cherry blossoms along the hem. The First Division fukutaicho pushed her glasses up her nose. “As I have said previously, Kurosaki-san, Ichigo, the Soul Society has a vested interest in ensuring that Kurosaki Kazui is trained as a shinigami.”

Orihime frowned at Nanao and tears formed in her eyes. “But my son is a _human_. He is alive, and he deserves to have a life here, with his mother. He’s in school full-time!”

“The earlier he learns to control his reiatsu, the better. We have tutors in the Seireitei who can teach him.”

Ichigo’s left leg bounced up and down as he looked at Nanao. “Ise-san, can I talk to you outside?” he asked. When she opened her mouth to protest, he stood and gestured toward the back door. “It’s important.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she allowed him to guide her to the backyard. Ichigo carefully closed the door behind him, then took a deep breath. “Kazui doesn’t need to be trained as a shinigami,” he said, “because he isn’t one. He’s a Quincy.”

She stared blankly at him for a moment. “I thought Yhwach stole your Quincy powers,” Nanao said finally, and adjusted her glasses. “How can he be a Quincy instead?”

Ichigo cleared his throat. “Because he isn’t my son,” he said, and the prickle of pain was no less for having said it to his family, to Urahara, or to Nanao. “He’s Ishida Uryuu’s.”

“I see. Will Ishida be teaching him, then?”

Ichigo shoved his hands in his pockets. “We haven’t talked about that. Guess it depends on whether Orihime lets him see Kazui,” he muttered.

“Does Rukia know?” Nanao asked softly, voice quietly sympathetic.

It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. Ichigo wasn’t sure what actually managed to get through the bond that first night, or the days after, or what Zangetsu had managed to say to Sode no Shirayuki. Or what she’d managed to pick up using his badge, if she or someone else was listening in on it. “I’m not sure,” he chose to say.

“Rukia has told me a little of what happened. I am sorry for how…difficult this must be for all of you.” Her eyes, studying him over the tops of her glasses, were as warm as he’d ever seen them. “I’ve been asked to give these to you.” Nanao dug into the cherry-hued purse hanging over her shoulder and handed him two envelopes; one bore the seal of the Thirteenth Division, and the other Byakuya’s seal as head of the Kuchiki clan.

Ichigo pocketed the envelopes and ducked his head uneasily. “Yeah…thanks, Ise-san,” he mumbled.

Nanao patted Ichigo’s arm lightly. “As a friend of Rukia’s, I am glad that you will be returning to the Seireitei soon.” Then her expression became stern and distanced once more. “Kyōraku Soutaicho has asked when that will be, exactly.”

Ichigo glanced back at the house. “We’re supposed to meet with the mediators tomorrow. She’s not…” Ichigo huffed. He didn’t really want to share _all_ of his business with Nanao. She was Rukia’s friend, but he barely knew her. “It takes time, and the house still needs to be sold after the divorce is final,” he explained. “I don’t know how long that will take. A few months?” he hazarded.

Nanao just nodded slowly. “I will inform Kyōraku that Kazui does not require training from Soul Society, and that it will take you a few more months to complete your business here.” A little awkwardly, she patted the side of Ichigo’s arm. “Good luck, Kurosaki-san.” Then she lifted a hand in farewell and walked through the side yard before setting off at a brisk walk toward Urahara’s.

Ichigo tucked the letters into his pocket and went back inside. Orihime was dabbing at her eyes and wouldn’t look at him, but Uryuu just arched an eyebrow in inquiry. “It’s taken care of,” he said. “Soul Society won’t bring up shinigami training again.” Then he sequestered himself in the clinic before opening the letters from the Kuchiki siblings. Reluctantly, he opened Byakuya’s first.

_Kurosaki Ichigo,_

_Kyōraku Soutaicho has informed me of your intent to join us on a permanent basis. I strongly recommend that you speak with Shiba K_ _ūkaku prior to taking your oaths as a member of the Gotei 13._

_We will have tea upon your return to the Soul Society. After you have spoken to Shiba K_ _ūkaku._

_Kuchiki Byakuya_

_Head of the Kuchiki Clan_

Ichigo frowned at the brief letter but re-folded it and placed it back in the envelope. He opened Rukia’s next and laughed – just like she had so long ago, Rukia had put the letter in code. He dug around for a pen and, looking at the “hint” she’d left, crossed off the extra kanji she’d scattered throughout the message.

_Ichigo,_

_Ichika has learned her zanpakutō’s first attack: she can use Getsuga Tensho, just as you and Isshin-san can. She believes that Shiragetsu will show her other attacks soon. She is still upset about our recent conversation, understandably, and has begged to be allowed to stay with Renji in the Sixth’s barracks for a while._

_I know that you are not sure when you will return to Soul Society. When you do, you are welcome to stay at the manor. Or in the Thirteenth barracks, if you prefer._

There was another line that still didn’t make sense with the extra kanji crossed out, and Ichigo puzzled over it, turning the letter over in his hands for any other hint. He found it, and translated silently: _I am sorry for your hurt, though Sode no Shirayuki cannot tell me what caused it, only that your pain was so strong it reverberated through our bonds. I would take it from you, if I could._

_Rukia_

Ichigo smiled a little – and then put both letters in the shredder he used to dispose of sensitive documents, turning them into confetti.

The divorce dragged on for months, with Orihime first refusing to get a lawyer and then refusing to speak with the mediators at all while Onishi was first circumspect and then much blunter as to Kazui’s origins. Ichigo sat through hours-long meetings and then spent as much time with Kazui as he could, knowing that once the papers were signed Orihime could keep him from seeing the boy.

His only respite was hunting hollows, something he took on with relish after spending years without Zangetsu in his hands. And if the zanpakutō was battle-eager, if he took out his own anger on hollows who thought they could feed in Karakura with impunity, well – Ichigo knew that he missed Sode no Shirayuki just as much as his wielder missed Rukia.

The day the paperwork was finally signed, seven months after he’d filed, Ichigo’s relief was so great that he wondered whether Rukia could feel that, too. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left Soul Society, though there’d been a second letter, passed to him by Urahara, and he’d sent one back with what he hoped was a clever code. Orihime wouldn’t speak to him – not that he could blame her. The agreement demanded that she pack and find a new apartment; Ichigo packed some of her things himself when she dragged her feet for a full month. He packed everything for Kazui, too, and called the movers when Orihime found an apartment not far from the bakery.

The agreement required that the house and clinic be sold to provide Orihime with an alimony payment – a smaller one than she’d demanded, still hoping to get him to stop the proceedings. Onishi introduced him to a real estate agent, and in the end, it didn’t take more than a few weeks for the house and clinic to receive multiple offers, one of which was from a doctor who wanted to open his own practice and was interested in having Karin and Yuzu continue to work at the clinic. Ichigo and his sisters started their own packing process; his sisters spent weeks mailing letters to patients informing them of the clinic’s change of hands and offering to transfer medical records to other practices around Karakura. In between that, they found an apartment near the clinic and signed their very first lease.

Ichigo found himself giving most of his belongings away. The vast majority of his clothes and other personal belongings went to thrift and charity shops around the city. There were a few books and keepsakes he held onto, and some clothes that he could use when visiting the World of the Living to see Kazui. He hauled bag after colorful bag of carefully sorted recycling and garbage to the communal containers, the products of thirty years of life at the Kurosaki Clinic. The furniture was donated; there were expired medical supplies as well and disposing of some of that was such a headscratcher that he called Uryuu for help.

It was much more difficult to deal with his father’s belongings. Ichigo had put everything in the closet in his old room when he married Orihime. The clothing went straight to the collection bins; none of it had been in style when Isshin wore it, let alone a decade later. But there were items that Isshin had clearly kept after Masaki died – those were harder to part with. Most of the jewelry he gave to his sisters, keeping only a ring and a necklace of his mother’s.

Suddenly, there was nothing more to do. The house was sold for a healthy 90 million yen, the price boosted by the presence of the clinic and the fact that the clinic furniture came with the building. There were taxes, and the real estate agent had to be paid; so did Orihime’s alimony. But the rest went to his sisters and to Kazui.

Just as suddenly, it was time to say goodbye. In Urahara’s shoten Ichigo, his sisters, Ishida, and _Chad_ gathered for a quiet farewell. Kazui clung to Yuzu’s skirt uncertainly, Orihime having been persuaded to let the boy say goodbye, as well.

“You’re sure about this, Ichigo?” Yuzu asked as she clung to her older brother.

He pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Yeah. But I’ll be back to visit, you know that. Urahara’s going to try and turn my body into a proper gigai, but if that doesn’t work he’ll come up with something else.” When Yuzu sniffled again Ichigo ruffled her hair until she whined in protest.

“You’ll bring Rukia-nee to visit?” Karin asked, surreptitiously wiping at her eyes, and Ichigo’s expression softened.

“Yeah, she’d like that,” he agreed. Once Yuzu let go of him, Ichigo stepped over to his cousin. Ishida’s expression was serious as they shook hands, and though he looked surprised when Ichigo leaned in closer, he listened solemnly as Ichigo said, “Look out for Kazui, will you? I’ll keep Soul Society’s attention off both of you.”

“You didn’t have to ask,” Ishida muttered, and pushed his glasses up. “But thanks.”

Chad’s hand was enormous around Ichigo’s even now, and when he hugged Ichigo and patted him on the back it was a little like being at the center of a small earthquake. “Good luck,” he said, low and rumbling.

“You too. When do classes start?”

“April.”

Ichigo grinned up at his friend. “You’ll be a great school counselor.” Then it was time to hug Kazui, and Ichigo knelt so that he could wrap his arms around him. “I promise I’ll visit as often as I can, okay?” he asked against the child’s hair.

“Can I visit _you_? And Ichika?” Kazui asked.

Ichigo glanced up at Uryuu. “I hope so,” he said. “But we’ll see, okay?”

Karin was last, and she shoved something into his hands after he hugged her. “Give this to Toshiro,” she ordered, and Ichigo raised an eyebrow at the faint pink shade to her cheeks.

“What is it?” Ichigo looked at the wrapped package, square and unassuming.

“Just give it to him, don’t be nosy, Ichi-nii,” Karin groused. Ichigo raised his eyebrows again but obediently tucked it into his backpack. All of his possessions fit in a single large backpack that he’d carried into Urahara’s shop. Urahara’s matter converter took care of his things and then – with one last look back and a wave, he was running between the worlds one more time, this time with permission to arrive straight into the Kuchiki manor. The red thread pulsed as he grew closer, and Ichigo found himself smiling.

Inside him Zangetsu shouted his own joy, as the rain let up once again.

Ichigo landed on the polished wooden floor, sandaled feet slipping a little with the momentum before he caught himself. He looked up; there were no guards present, but Rukia – Rukia was there. His heart skipped a beat and Ichigo stepped forward, letting the backpack fall to the floor. They reached for one another, hands clasping before Ichigo pulled her even closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m home,” he said, and a note of wonder filled his voice.

Rukia’s hands fisted in the front of his uniform and she rested her head against his chest for a moment, listening to his heart beating. “Welcome home.” Her violet eyes gleamed as she looked up at him, lips curving upwards.

Ichigo’s answering smile lit up his whole face.

Then Rukia kicked his shin.

“Ow! What the hell, Rukia?”

“You’ve been gone for _almost nine months_. Do you know how often Nii-sama and I needed to fend off Kyōraku?” Rukia stomped her foot.

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. “It was…” He made a face. “Kind of a mess. And then I had to sell the house and get rid of thirty years’ worth of stuff. But it’s done. All of it.”

Rukia’s expression shifted toward sympathy and her hand found his again, squeezing gently. “Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner? We can go to one of the restaurants in the Rukongai.”

His smile mirrored hers again. “Yeah. I’d like that.” His hand squeezed back. “I’ve really missed you.”

* * *

Deep within, Zangetsu turned as he felt a presence in Ichigo’s inner world, one he hadn’t felt except at a great distance in months. _She_ was there, snowy kimono draped around her and a parasol shielding her from the drizzle. “Snow lady,” he breathed, and the parasol went flying as Sode no Shirayuki leapt for him. They landed, sprawled together on a rooftop, with Zangetsu cushioning their fall using his own body.

“Welcome home,” the snow-white zanpakutō spirit murmured, as Zangetsu wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her close.

“Miss me?” he asked and leaned in for a kiss.

“Excessively,” Sode no Shirayuki murmured against his lips. “We felt the pain from here; the blizzard nearly buried me when she couldn’t stop it.”

Zangetsu just kissed her again. “Sorry, snow lady. It’s been rough for him too.” Then he glanced around and hauled her into his arms. “Let me show you what I found, though.” He leapt from the building as Shirayuki held onto him, parasol forgotten, and onto another rooftop, then another. The third leap brought them to a garden in the sky, perched upon one of the tallest buildings.

“Oh,” Shirayuki said softly. “What is this place doing here?” When Zangetsu set her down she stepped amidst the overflowing greenery carefully. There were flowers everywhere: snowdrops mingled with forget-me-nots, and the scent of andromeda lingered.

At the end of the garden was a set of double doors, and Zangetsu threw them open. “This appeared a few days ago,” he explained as Shirayuki stepped inside a modern penthouse apartment. “Guess it’s mine now.” More shyly, he added, “could be _ours_ , when you’re here.”

“I’d like that.” And her lips touched his again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The legal conversations and references in this chapter are based on Japanese family law as of December 2020. Wikipedia has a basic overview [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Family_law_in_Japan). Of note, in Japan, following a divorce only one parent maintains formal, legal custody of any children. A lawyer is not required for a mediated divorce (chotei rikon), but some sources I consulted recommended hiring one.
> 
> The price for the Kurosaki family home/clinic is roughly based on prices for large homes west of Tokyo, in the Tama area. At roughly 103 yen to the US dollar, the house is about $873K (as of January 2021).
> 
> This chapter was updated on January 8 to fix some typos. Additionally, while doing some research for chapter 16 I found out that joint bank accounts are not legal in Japan. This chapter has been revised to reflect that Ichigo got access to his father's savings when Isshin was declared dead, not through a joint account.


	16. Getting Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo begins his new life in Soul Society.

“Byakuya nii-sama has given you permission to stay in the manor until you have joined the Gotei Thirteen officially,” Rukia explained as they walked along the engawa hand in hand.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, and she looked up at the melancholy tone in his voice.

“Ichigo?”

“I’ll tell you over dinner,” he promised, and squeezed her hand.

She led him to the same guestroom he’d stayed in several months ago, and he dropped his bag just inside the door before they walked to the manor gates. Their hands fell away from one another once they passed the gates in an unspoken agreement not to attract attention. Once they were in a secluded booth in a tiny noodle restaurant, however, Ichigo let one of his legs tangle with Rukia’s beneath the table.

Over bowls of steaming hot ramen – it was still chilly in the Seireitei – Ichigo quietly told Rukia about the last several months of his life.

He should have expected it, but the spike of her reiatsu still took him by surprise when he said, “Kazui isn’t mine.”

Her hand gripped his atop the table, ice cold but comforting. “She…lied to you?” Rukia asked, voice taut and expression incredulous, and at Ichigo’s nod her power spiked higher.

“Rukia – come on, you’re going to knock out the other customers,” Ichigo protested.

“I just can’t believe she’d _do_ something like that,” she growled, but got herself back under control.

“I couldn’t either.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes as he said it, but his hand didn’t leave hers.

“I’m so sorry.” Her fingers twined with his and squeezed gently.

“Worst part of it is that Uryuu and I don’t have any say at all,” Ichigo added, and Rukia winced. “I set up a trust for him that Karin and Yuzu are in charge of, but even that just means Orihime has to be civil to my sisters.” When he mentioned Uryuu’s near-constant presence during the divorce, though, she set down her chopsticks and looked thoughtful.

“Do you think he still loves her?”

Ichigo slurped a ribbon of noodles into his mouth. “Maybe,” he muttered when he’d swallowed. “But I think it’s because of Kazui.” He didn’t know how he felt about the idea of Uryuu still loving Orihime; it wasn’t just _him_ that Orihime had lied to, after all. But he just arched an eyebrow at her. “So how are things here in Soul Society?”

“Much the same,” Rukia murmured. She poked around in the ramen bowl with her chopsticks. “The elders formally allowed the dissolution of my marriage to Renji several months ago, but they’re still sulking over it even though they weren’t very happy when I married him in the first place. Nii-sama and I had…a lively discussion with them.”

Ichigo laughed a little under his breath when she told him about how she’d nearly rendered the elders catatonic, but then his foot pressed against hers lightly. “How’s…how’s Renji taking it?”

“Nii-sama sent him on another mission to Hueco Mundo. He said it was due to a new influx of hollows, but I suspect he wanted to get some space between us.” Rukia refilled her teacup and sipped from it, frowning at the curls of steam rising into the air.

Ichigo scowled. “And Ichika?” he asked. “In your first letter you said she was staying with Renji for a while and that she was angry with you.”

A fond smile bloomed on Rukia’s face, although it was tinged with sadness. “She’s adjusting. It helps that I haven’t been keeping her from seeing him, I think. But she’s still not used to being called _Kuchiki_ Ichika.” Her eyes met his. “How is Kazui?”

“He…” Ichigo let his head fall back for second. “That’s the other reason it took me so long. I didn’t want him to think I was just abandoning him. Even though he’s a Quincy, if I thought he could stay here I’d have pushed for custody.” Not that he knew what he would have done about Uryuu.

Rukia ducked her head. “Did we…did we do the right thing?” she asked suddenly.

Ichigo grabbed her hand again before she could say more. “Yeah,” he said confidently. “It wasn’t the easy thing, but it was the right thing. _None_ of the four of us were happy, Rukia. Not really. It won’t be the easiest thing for Kazui and Ichika, but – we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Her hand tightened around his and they stayed that way for a long moment, eyes meeting, before Rukia nodded her agreement.

They ate in silence for a little while, savoring their meals while they were still hot, but then Rukia said, “Kyōraku wants your induction completed as soon as possible. And I have an offer for you.”

“Yeah?” Ichigo set his chopsticks down in favor of drinking from a large tumbler of water.

“I’d like you to consider becoming the Thirteenth’s _fukutaicho_.” Rukia watched him carefully, hands clutching the fabric of her hakama beneath the table. “The division hasn’t had someone in the role in ten years, so it will be an adjustment, but…”

He raised an eyebrow. “How will the other division members feel about that? Hasn’t Sentarō been your Third Seat for decades?”

“He hasn’t ever wanted the job,” Rukia admitted. “He still doesn’t. And the division is still a mess. Almost no one from the academy wanted to join a team without a leader; we’re _years_ behind the other divisions.”

“Why the hell did Kyōraku wait so long to appoint you?” Ichigo demanded, though he kept his voice low.

Rukia wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Not here,” she said quietly.

His leg wrapped around one of hers. “I’ll do it,” he decided, “if that’s what you need.”

“Thank you.”

After dinner, Ichigo walked Rukia back towards the Thirteenth Division barracks. “I thought I’d go see Shiba Kūkaku tomorrow,” he offered. “Byakuya seemed to think it was urgent, based on his letter.”

Rukia hummed her agreement. “It is, but you should hear it from her.”

They parted at the gates to the Thirteenth, where Ichigo lightly squeezed her hand before flash-stepping back to the Kuchiki Manor.

She dreamt of Zangetsu and Sode no Shirayuki and _their_ reunion – one much more openly passionate than hers had been with Ichigo – and woke in the middle of the night panting, yukata sticking to her skin and temples damp. Rukia’s cheeks were hot in the darkness, and when she turned on her side, she felt her slick trickling down her thighs. Ichigo was in a similar state; she sensed him at the edge of her awareness, hard and yearning.

 _You should go to him_ , the soft, satisfied voice of her zanpakutō whispered. _There is nothing stopping you now_.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

_Why?_

“Because we’re not _together_ , he’s been here less than twelve hours, and he’s just gotten a divorce,” Rukia hissed into the darkness of her quarters. “And you may have forgotten, but I just had _my_ marriage annulled.”

 _Suit yourself, my dear_ , the cool voice murmured. _But Zangetsu says he wants you just as much as you want him._ There was a little giggle. _Forgive me, he wants me again_.

Rukia huffed in frustration and swung her feet off of the platform upon which her futon was spread. She needed a cool bath, and she suspected she wasn’t going to get much sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Ichigo dragged himself out of bed, grunting his irritation. Zangetsu had filled his mind with vivid dreams. Dreams of his zanpakutō and Rukia’s twined together; dreams of Rukia in his arms, bare skin against his. It had made for a restless night, especially when he could feel Rukia, far across the Seireitei, experiencing the same thing.

He bathed in cold water and dressed, then strapped on Zangetsu and went in search of the Shiba home. Fortunately, Kūkaku still had terrible taste in architecture: once he was beyond the Seireitei and high in the air, Ichigo spotted a pair of enormous stone arms in the distance. Ichigo shifted in and out of view as he used shunpo to travel the small building beneath the arms and knocked on the door. Surprisingly, Kūkaku herself answered, and she looked at him with an unreadable expression before grabbing the front of his uniform and dragging him downstairs into her home. Ichigo didn’t protest – he’d learned over a decade ago that it wouldn’t do him any good.

They arrived in her living room and Kūkaku released Ichigo, pushing him onto a large cushion on the tatami floor next to a low table. She sat down cross-legged on a second cushion across from him and picked up her pipe. “Well?” she asked, as Ichigo straightened himself out.

Ichigo cleared his throat and, though he was already seated, bowed slightly at the waist. “Kūkaku-san,” he started. “It’s been a long time. I came to let you know that I have decided to stay in Soul Society permanently and become a member of the Gotei 13.”

Kūkaku made a show of filling the bowl of her pipe and tamping it down, then lighting it. She puffed contemplatively. “I thought you went back to the gensei and married that weird girl,” she finally said.

“I did,” Ichigo acknowledged. “It didn’t work out. It’s a really _long_ story involving the Zero Division.”

She snorted and leaned forward. “Shinigami are always meddling. You sure you want to join them?”

Ichigo nodded solemnly. “Rukia is here. And so is my daughter.”

Kūkaku dropped her pipe. “You… _found_ your daughter here in the Rukongai?” she asked.

He ducked his head, cheeks flushing slightly. “Ah…no. Ichika was born here, she’s Rukia’s daughter.”

“Hn.” She grabbed the pipe back up and relit it before taking a long drag. “Thought she was with the pineapple head.”

“That didn’t work out either,” Ichigo muttered. He didn’t think Kūkaku had been paying that much attention.

“Aa. Well, if you’re certain about joining the Gotei to be with the Kuchiki girl…” Kūkaku looked at him. “ _Are_ you certain?”

Ichigo met her eyes. “I am.” He’d never made the thread appear on his own before, but Zangetsu guided him and the thread appeared around him, looping and disappearing into the distance. It vanished again after a few seconds.

Kūkaku’s eyes widened and then she smirked at him. “Well then, cousin, no wonder it didn’t work out with the other one.” She drew on her pipe and then grinned at Ichigo’s gob smacked expression. “Did your father never tell you? Isshin is my uncle.” She waved her hand, sending embers from the pipe flying around. “He was the head of a branch of the clan, before he disappeared.”

Ichigo swallowed. “Byakuya suggested that I see you before I joined the Gotei.”

“Ahh, Byakuya doesn’t want his sister to marry a nobody a second time around, does he?”

“Renji’s not a _nobody_ ,” Ichigo defended.

“A nobody to the Great Noble Houses,” Kūkaku corrected. “Which _you_ are not. We’ll need to make it official, but you’re a member of the Shiba clan by birth.”

“I don’t want to change my name,” Ichigo said stubbornly, but Kūkaku just shoved the business end of her pipe in his face.

“You’ll be head of the Kurosaki branch, fine, fine. It’s more paperwork for me, so y _ou_ can have the conversation with Byakuya about what name you take if you marry his sister.”

He frowned. “In the world of the living we need to take the same family name, but Rukia’s still a Kuchiki here, and Renji never took the Kuchiki name as far as I know.” Ichika had been an _Abarai_ , after all, until the divorce.

“Well there’s the name she uses in the Gotei and her family name,” Kūkaku pointed out. “But that’s between the two of you and Byakuya.” She grinned, then. “ _The_ war hero as a member of the Shiba clan. Maybe those other stuck-ups will have to consider us one of the Great Houses again.”

Ichigo found himself smirking despite the fact that he didn’t like the idea of his status as a “war hero” being used for anyone’s gain. “If that would make you happy, Kūkaku-san.”

Kūkaku shook her pipe at him, then leaned away and hollered for Koganehiko and Shiraganehiko. When the two men arrived, she asked for paperwork and tea. “You’ll say for tea, cousin,” she said, and it clearly wasn’t a request. “We’ll catch up, and I’ll tell you more about this noble…nonsense.”

Ichigo just smiled a little, resigned to it.

* * *

Ichigo would give his cousin and new clan head this: she was very efficient when she wanted to be. The paperwork to have him declared the Head of the Kurosaki Branch of the Shiba Clan was already filed and official less than forty-eight hours after his arrival in Soul Society. He’d let Byakuya know about his conversation with Kūkaku, and so found himself in a quiet corner of the manor he hadn’t seen before.

It was clear that Byakuya had invited him as Head of the Kuchiki Clan and not as a captain in the Gotei; he’d forgone his uniform and white haori for a navy-blue kimono embroidered with stylized white cherry blossoms. He still wore the pale windsilk scarf that denoted his status as head of the clan.

Ichigo had dressed for the occasion as well. An old memory had surfaced just before he’d left Karakura: the Sakura-Crested Full Access Pass Byakuya had given him nearly a decade ago was still in his possession. He’d brought it with him, hoping it might still work; Ichigo didn’t exactly have money in Soul Society, after all. Bless the Kuchiki clan head; the pass was still good, as Ichigo found when he approached a shop selling kimono with a familiar seal on the door.

So when Ichigo met Byakuya at the door to an honest to god tea house, at least he wasn’t going to embarrass himself in the first five minutes. He’d asked the shop attendant for an ensemble appropriate for an important tea ceremony. The deep green silk kimono and black haori seemed to be the right choices.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Byakuya greeted. Ichigo bowed slightly and, at Byakuya’s direction, sat in _seiza_ with a low table between them. “Your conversation with Shiba Kūkaku was productive, then?”

“Yea-yes. Kūkaku has made me the head of the Kurosaki branch of the Shiba clan.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “She crowed all the way to the records office about the _hero of Soul Society_.”

“Hn.” Byakuya measured matcha powder into a cup and filled the remainder of the cup with hot water. He lowered a bamboo whisk into the cup and whisked vigorously until the matcha was blended. He repeated the process with a second cup and offered one to Ichigo. “I would not let it get to your head.”

The matcha in Ichigo’s cup sloshed slightly, but he sipped and counted to five before responding. “I’ve never been interested in titles or glory for the sake of it,” he reminded Byakuya calmly.

The words seemed to please Byakuya; though the older man had excellent control of his reiryoku, this close he could feel a whisper of what felt like approval. “Good, then. The elders are concerned that you pursue my sister for a connection to the Kuchiki clan.”

Ichigo had far inferior control of _his_ power, and it showed as it momentarily blanketed the room before he managed to reel his temper back in. “Rukia and I are connected,” he chose to say. “Out of everyone in the Soul Society you know that, and that it has nothing to do with your clan. And given what they said to her during the annulment hearing, my patience for their opinions is limited.”

Byakuya sipped his own tea thoughtfully. “She told you about the hearing?” he asked after a long moment of silence.

“Yes, but I felt when it happened, too,” Ichigo muttered. And realized he’d managed to shock the older man, as Byakuya nearly dropped his cup.

“You _felt_ it. From the World of the Living.”

“Hn. Zangetsu and Shirayuki did something,” Ichigo explained. “I couldn’t hear what your elders were saying, though. Just that she was really upset.”

Byakuya took a long breath. “I see. That is…enlightening. Though you will need to show respect to the elders, Ichigo.”

“I’ll show them as much respect as they show Rukia,” he agreed.

When Byakuya’s lips twitched, Ichigo knew he’d hit the mark he wanted. “Indeed,” he said. “So then, Ichigo,” and his tone was only a touch sardonic, “what are your intentions toward my sister?”

He was prepared for that question – had been prepared a decade ago – even if it was an old-fashioned one. “We both need time to heal,” Ichigo said quietly. “Ichika and Kazui need time, too. But I intend to court Rukia and marry her, if she will have me,” Ichigo said quietly. His eyes met Byakuya’s, fierce and with a hint of warning in them.

But Byakuya just nodded. “You have my blessing,” he said.

Ichigo set his cup down and bowed, briefly, in thanks.

“Do you understand what courtship means for a noble house?”

“Kūkaku gave me a crash course,” Ichigo admitted. “But she said it might be…different since we’ve both been married before.”

“Hn.” Byakuya reached into his haori and pulled out a slim book. He passed it across the table. “Rukia’s marriage was _annulled,_ which is something the noble houses can authorize. In the eyes of the clan, she was never married at all.”

Ichigo’s teacup clattered when he set it down in favor of picking up the book. He scanned the cover and then slipped it into his own haori. “Is it a problem that I was?”

“No.” Byakuya’s shoulders rose in the slightest shrug. “Your marriage was based on a lie, and it took place in the World of the Living. Here, you would have been granted an annulment.”

There was a small plate of snacks on the table, and Ichigo reached for one, chewing thoughtfully. “So in the eyes of the Kuchiki clan, neither of us has been married?” At Byakuya’s nod, he asked, “And Ichika? Is she…” Ichigo scrubbed a hand over his face. “How does the clan see her?”

The teacup clattered again. “Ichika is under _my_ protection,” Byakuya said tautly. “The elders will keep their tongues civil or answer to me.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, and concentrated on his tea for a while.

Before the sun was high in the sky the next morning, Ichigo was officially a member of the Gotei 13. The ceremony was a brief one, with just Kyōraku, Rukia, and Nanao in attendance. Apparently, Nanao was there to make sure that Kyōraku didn’t offer him any sake before breakfast.

Ichigo swore an oath to protect the World of the Living, to purify hollows and convey the souls of the recently departed into Soul Society, and to obey the laws of the Seireitei. Rukia presented him with a badge; it was the one that _she_ had worn for more than a decade. She tied it around his bicep proudly and accepted the oath he made to _her_ – both the one he made verbally, and the one that passed just between them. A nod of the head, an intense stare; it meant that Ichigo would protect her and her division. It meant that she knew he was making that promise.

Afterwards, Ichigo followed Rukia back to the Thirteenth Division barracks. The division buildings were just as he remembered them: more serene than most, with a large garden and a raised path over still waters to the Ugendo. This time, though, Rukia led him to the large building, separate from the barracks, where the offices and their quarters were housed.

A guard opened the ornate wooden gate at Rukia’s nod, and she stepped inside.

Beyond the gate was a narrow courtyard, and a wave of sudden calm swept over Ichigo. Smooth stones formed a path in either direction from where he stood, leading around the perimeter of the two-story building. Willowy hakonechloa grasses sprung up along the outer wall, along with low-growing hostas. There were small bonsai trees scattered along the pathways as well, potted in small containers and impeccably trimmed. He could hear trickling water from nearby, and the scent of wisteria hung in the air.

“This place hasn’t changed much,” Ichigo observed quietly. Rukia smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her expression as well.

“Until I was appointed we couldn’t change much of anything,” she explained. “Without a division leader I couldn’t ask for a capital expenses budget.”

“Seriously?” Ichigo looked down at her. “I know that the Seireitei can move slowly, but that’s ridiculous.”

Rukia just shrugged. “Well, I’m in charge now, and I asked Kyōraku for three times the normal capital budget this year.”

“And?”

“Well, he gave me _half_ of what I asked for,” Rukia admitted. She led him into the building proper through a carved wooden door. Shoji screens lined either side of the hallway and Rukia pushed open the first one on the left. “This is the office for the seated officers other than the taicho and fukutaicho,” she explained. Small desks of polished dark wood, some of them looking rather battered, were scattered throughout the room. Wooden cabinets lined the far wall, sitting below windows that looked out onto the courtyard.

There were few officers at work, just Rukia’s sixth seat and eighth seat, who both offered a polite “Taicho!” before returning to their work. Rukia slid the door shut and beckoned Ichigo along. “There will be time for proper introductions later.” She slid open a door on the right side of the hallway and they stepped into a smaller room. This space had only one desk, but it was much larger – and stacked high with papers.

Beyond the desk there was a low table with large blue cushions around it; the space looked a little threadbare and the cushions had holes in them. There was a large, round window overlooking the courtyard, and the window in the wall opposite the door overlooked the training grounds.

“This will be your office,” Rukia explained. “You’re welcome to decorate it as you see fit. I have been handling all of the paperwork for…quite some time, so the space is not as organized as I would have liked.” She glanced up at him. “I’m sure you can organize it.”

No one had told Ichigo how much paperwork there would be, but Ichigo – Ichigo was a doctor, and he had been a good student before that. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll figure it out.”

She led him further down the hallway, where her office was; Ichigo noted that it looked as worn as his new workspace and made a note to encourage Rukia to include in her next budget request enough to redecorate her _own_ office, after a decade of the space lying empty.

At the end of the hallway was a staircase, and Rukia led him up the wide plank steps. “These are our living quarters,” Rukia explained. “Only your quarters and mine are up here; the rest of the officers live in the barracks.”

Ichigo hummed thoughtfully under his breath. The living area was nicer than he expected, with the stairs leading to a wide, open area with soft, cushioned sofas and chairs. Past the seating area were two doors.

Rukia turned to the right and pushed open the first heavy wooden door. The space inside was dim despite the fact that it was nearly noon; Ichigo saw that there were shades covering the windows. He stepped inside and pulled up one shade, letting sunlight blaze into the room.

Like everything else he’d seen, it was a little worn, although this space was clean despite that. “You used to live here, right?” he asked. The space was divided in two, he could see now that there was sunlight: the outer part of the room held an empty bookcase that stood up against the eastern wall, and a low writing table.

A small kitchenette took up much of the western side of the room. There were a few cabinets and a sink, as well as an old-looking stovetop and oven. There was a larger cabinet next to the sink and Ichigo could sense the kido coming from it. A shoji divider, opened to allow access to the other portion of the room, contained only a narrow bed with a thin mattress.

Rukia stepped into the room after him and allowed the door to shut, then nodded in agreement. “I moved into my new quarters over the summer,” she clarified.

The shut door, with its implied privacy, allowed Ichigo to turn and slide his hand around hers. “And your quarters are next door,” he said, and Rukia cleared her throat.

“I’ll send a messenger over to the Kuchiki manor for your things. Like the office, you’re welcome to decorate your quarters however you’d like,” she offered.

Ichigo arched an eyebrow but said nothing as she opened the door again and led him into her quarters. Her rooms were twice the size of his, not surprisingly, but they were spartan. “It looks like you haven’t really moved in yet.” He gestured at the bookshelves, which held only a few slender volumes and at the open shoji divider, which showed a bed of similar size to the one in his quarters.

“It hasn’t exactly been my first priority,” Rukia agreed. She turned to step back through the doorway, but Ichigo’s hand stopped her gently.

“Rukia,” he said quietly.

She stiffened just a little. “We’re on duty.” Her voice was just as quiet.

“I know. But I’d like to have dinner with you again, when we’re both off duty tonight.”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I’d like that. For now, though, Kurosaki Fukutaicho, we need to finish your tour and then talk about your duties.”

Ichigo huffed out a laugh and followed her back outside.


	17. Courting

When Rukia stopped by Ichigo’s office several hours later, it was close to nine. She’d gathered the squad together in the training grounds for an introduction to their new lieutenant. There had been some puzzlement and a little grumbling…and a few too many of the members of her division, both men and women, were openly admiring him. After that, she’d left Ichigo to organize his office as he saw fit.

Rukia wasn’t expecting much when she slid the door open. Ichigo had always been an excellent fighter, but she knew she’d be walking into a tornado of paperwork. To her utter shock, the desk was nearly clear. Neatly labeled folders were organized in a short stack to one side of the desk, and one of the filing cabinets from the other office had been moved against the wall.

“Where…where did all the paperwork go?” Rukia asked, a touch breathlessly. Ichigo looked up from a smaller stack of papers and grinned at her.

“Filed, or sent back to the divisions that requested them,” he explained. “This stack needs to be reviewed by you, I think. Some of it wasn’t clear, so there’s a miscellaneous folder for you to look at.” At Rukia’s incredulous look, he laughed. “Rukia, I grew up in a _clinic_. There was always a lot of paperwork. We still hadn’t digitized our files when I sold the house.”

At the reminder of Ichigo’s short career as a doctor, Rukia’s expression fell and her reiatsu tinged with sadness. Ichigo laid his calligraphy brush down and stood, hand reaching for hers. “Don’t do that,” he said. “We agreed that we made the right choice, remember? There are _lots_ of doctors in Karakura, and my skills won’t go to waste here.”

Rukia took a deep breath. “Yes, we agreed,” she murmured, and squeezed his hand. “You invited me to dinner, didn’t you? I came to see if you forgot, since it’s getting so late.”

“Aa. No, I didn’t forget. What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmn. Sushi? I know a place nearby.” At Ichigo’s nod they set off, and in a little while they were seated at a sushi counter in the first district of the Rukongai. It was less private than their dinner of noodles a few nights previously, and Ichigo definitely recognized a few other shinigami, but everyone seemed to be keeping to themselves.

Rukia spoke quietly to the sushi chef; very shortly, they had a bottle of sake in front of them and two cups. That was followed by delicately plated slices of salmon sashimi. “So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked when she’d selected and eaten a piece of the sashimi.

Ichigo took a fortifying sip of his sake – she’d ordered _good_ quality sake, he noticed – and set his cup down before answering. “I had tea with Byakuya yesterday,” he started. Rukia’s eyes widened a little, and he huffed out a laugh. “I know. But we have an understanding, I think.”

“An understanding of what, exactly?”

Ichigo’s hand touched hers lightly. “Come on, Rukia. We both care about _you_.” He just smiled when her cheeks turned pink. “Anyway, I let him know that Kūkaku made me the head of a branch of the Shiba clan, like my dad was. That’s why he suggested I see her. So I’m technically the Honorable Kurosaki Ichigo now.” He rolled his eyes a little.

“Fool. It’s an _honor_ to be part of a noble house. And your status as fukutaicho will elevate the standing of the Shiba clan,” Rukia reprimanded him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know – Kūkaku told me. I’m sure it’s giving some of the other clans palpitations,” Ichigo joked.

Their conversation paused for a moment as the chef replaced their empty plate with another, this time of holding two expertly cut pieces of yellowtail tuna displayed over quenelles of rice.

“Is that the only reason Nii-sama asked you to join him for tea?” Rukia asked when she’d eaten her portion.

“No.” Ichigo couldn’t help another glance around the restaurant before he continued. “Rukia, I don’t want to rush you.” He saw that Rukia’s cup was empty and poured more sake for her.

She raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, making only a “go on” motion with one hand.

Ichigo’s hand found hers on the counter.

The sushi chef on the other side of the counter looked at them and then at the impeccably crafted shrimp nigiri he was about to hand over, and moved to the customer next to him. He seemed to be occupying the man with a conversation about the freshness of the evening’s mackerel.

“I’d like to court you, if you’ll let me. When you’re ready.” Ichigo squeezed her hand gently, eyes shining honey amber as they looked into hers. His cheeks were pink, but he didn’t look away.

Rukia’s fingers tangled with his and when she smiled, her whole face lit up. “Fool,” she said again, affection in her voice, “I thought we were already courting.”

“I just wanted to be sure,” Ichigo said, and squeezed her hand again. “You deserve to be courted properly…whatever that means.”

Rukia couldn’t stifle her laugh entirely. “Whatever that means?” she repeated. “Idiot, you asked to court me and don’t know what it entails?”

“Byakuya gave me a book,” Ichigo admitted, cheeks flushing again. “But I’m only on the second chapter.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Really?” she asked. She wasn’t sure whether she was touched or embarrassed at the fact that her older brother was so openly helping them. When Ichigo’s eyes met hers, soft and warm in the light of the restaurant, she decided on _touched._

A plate with shrimp nigiri slid in front of them and they both looked up at the sushi chef, who made an impatient gesture that had them both blushing.

They spent the rest of the meal talking of lighter matters: what Ichigo needed to know about the other seated officers in the Thirteenth, the rumor that Hinamori had finally asked Hitsugaya out on a date. Ichigo frowned at that.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Only – my sister and Tōshirō exchange packages from time to time through Urahara. She gave me one when I crossed over the other day.”

Rukia hummed under her breath as she chewed a slice of toro. “Well, it’s just a rumor.” When Ichigo scowled, she nudged her knee against his. “Tōshirō won’t date Momo if he’s courting Karin, Ichigo. He’s not that kind of man.” She pursed her lips. “It’s odd that I haven’t heard anything about that, though. Rangiku and I had drinks last week.” She didn’t mention that she’d had to carry Rangiku back to her division. Again.

“Hn. Guess I’ll find out when I give him that package. Mind if I stop by the Tenth tomorrow to do it? Between Kūkaku and Byakuya yesterday, I didn’t really have any time.”

Around them, the restaurant kept moving, the sushi chefs creating tiny masterpieces with each cut of their knives while diners ate and chatted. But Rukia barely noticed any of it except when a plate appeared or disappeared from in front of her. Ichigo’s cup was empty again and she filled it; when he saw that hers was empty as well, he gently took the tokkuri from her and filled her cup. “He might not be entirely happy to see you,” Rukia commented. “Even with a gift from Karin.”

Ichigo huffed. “I need to apologize to Matsumoto-san, I know,” he muttered.

She laughed again. “It’s not that. Rangiku sort of approves, honestly. She said I—” Rukia fell silent for a moment and took a deep breath. “She said last week that she can tell that I’m happier, even without you here, than I’ve been in the last ten years.”

His knee bumped hers. “Good,” he said softly, and drew close to her. But their sushi chef placed another plate of delicately sliced sashimi in front of them before Ichigo could do anything more than smile down at her. “Tōshirō, then?”

“Oh.” She shook herself; no matter that they were in public, Rukia kind of wished he’d kiss her. “Well, if he _is_ courting Karin, he might think you’ll interfere,” she pointed out.

Ichigo just stifled a snort. “Karin’s an adult. She can make her own decisions. I’m a little concerned about what they’re going to do in the long term since she’s mortal and he’s _not_. But that’s their decision too, right?”

“That’s so _reasonable_ of you,” Rukia said with mock awe.

“Che. We lost ten years because someone else decided what was best for all of us. I’m not going to take Karin’s choices away from her,” Ichigo griped, and his knee lightly bumped hers again.

Rukia poured the last of the sake into Ichigo’s cup, then placed the empty tokkuri on the counter and signaled to the chef, who replaced it with a full one a moment later. “Good,” she agreed. “Then he’ll just be annoyed that you’re always so familiar with him.”

Ichigo filled her cup again and smirked. “If he’s dating my sister, he’ll just have to deal with it.” And he grinned when she laughed.

At the end of their meal, the last dish the chef slid in front of them had scattered forget-me-nots on it, surrounding a pair of chocolate mochi.

They walked back to the barracks in the darkness, moon gleaming overhead and torches lighting their way. They weren’t _drunk_ , but Rukia felt pleasantly warm from the sake and from Ichigo’s hand wrapped around hers. It was a little awkward that their living quarters were right next to each other, and Rukia half-hoped he’d try and invite himself into her rooms.

Instead, like a true gentleman he just squeezed her hand gently, said, “Have a good night, Rukia,” and let go before stepping into his quarters.

* * *

The next morning Ichigo set off for the Tenth Division early, after breakfast but before the first training session he was scheduled to teach. Karin’s package for her friend was tucked in the front of his shihakusho, still wrapped up tightly. He hadn’t opened it; whatever Karin was giving to her maybe-boyfriend was her business, not his. He came to a stop just at the gate to the division and politely requested entry. The guards glanced at the polished badge on his arm and let him through with shallow bows.

“Kurosaki,” Hitsugaya greeted when Ichigo stepped into his office a moment later. Unlike Rukia’s office and his, the space _felt_ like Tōshirō; the polished wooden walls held stately artworks and Hitsugaya’s desk was almost entirely free of clutter. _Except_ for several items that Ichigo was pretty sure Karin had gotten for him. None of it looked like something that could have come from the Rukongai…and one of them looked suspiciously like a soccer trophy.

“Tōshirō.” He grinned when the captain stood. He was taller than he’d been a decade ago and looked like an _adult_ , instead of the child he’d been during most of the war. He was still a little shorter than Ichigo, though. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Hitsugaya’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “It’s _Hitsugaya Taicho_ ,” he protested. Then he glanced at the badge on Ichigo’s arm. “So she made you her second, then? Good. I hope you’re better at paperwork than Matsumoto.”

“I heard that!” came a voice from the next room, and Hitsugaya rolled his eyes.

“You wouldn’t have if you _did your paperwork!_ ” he yelled.

Ichigo watched in bemusement as he pulled Karin’s package from his shihakusho. “I’m pretty good at it,” he said. “School had a lot of paperwork, and so did the clinic. Anyway, I stopped by because Karin wanted me to give this to you.” He held it out, and Tōshirō took it with a slight flush to his cheeks. _Guess he **is** dating her,_ he thought.

 ** _She could do worse_** , Zangetsu remarked. **_There’s that redheaded boy who works for hat ‘n clogs_**. And yes, Ichigo thought, that would have been worse.

“Thanks,” Hitsugaya said. He glanced toward the open doorway. “Kurosaki, your sister and I…”

Ichigo held up a hand. “She’s an adult, Tōshirō. You only have to worry about what _I_ think if you hurt her.”

The other man relaxed. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and glanced down at the package. Then he raised an eyebrow. “So, you and Kuchiki.”

Ah. Ichigo scrubbed the back of his neck. But before he could answer Rangiku bounded into the room, hair cut short and swaying around her cheeks. “Kurosaki! I thought I heard your voice.”

He bowed, briefly. “I’m sorry for injuring you all those months ago, Matsumoto-san,” Ichigo said as Hitsugaya watched with one eyebrow quirked.

But Rangiku just waved a hand. “You barely touched me. But yes, _you_ and _Kuchiki_ ,” she said, and smirked, eyebrows waggling as her arms crossed under her massive breasts. She laughed when Ichigo didn’t even glance at them.

“Are going to get the Thirteenth Division back in good shape,” Ichigo said, and scowled at them both. He didn’t want to share his new relationship with Rukia, yet. Hell, it wasn’t even a relationship; she’d technically agreed to let him court her, but all they’d done so far was hold hands and eat sushi.

Rangiku smirked. “I’m sure you are,” she agreed. Then her expression fell. “What about Orihime? Is she okay?”

Ah. The strawberry blonde fukutaicho had been friends with Orihime, he remembered. Ichigo pursed his lips. He really didn’t want to air his dirty laundry, either. So, he said carefully, “The last few months haven’t been easy for anyone.”

“Maybe I’ll pay her a visit,” Rangiku decided.

“I think she would like that,” Ichigo agreed.

Then she eyed him. “Did you cheat on her with Rukia?” she asked, and Ichigo scowled.

“ _No_ ,” he said flatly at the same time as Hitsugaya yelled, “Matsumoto!” Ichigo glanced at Hitsugaya, who was still holding the package from Karin. “I need to get back to my division. I’m leading a training and I’d rather not be late my first day.”

Hitsugaya waved a hand in dismissal as Ichigo gave a terse nod to Rangiku. They were already arguing again as he left the barracks.

* * *

Ichigo’s first week as an official shinigami – instead of a substitute – and as Rukia’s lieutenant was even more hectic than he expected. While his initial organizational efforts cleaned up _his_ office, it was clear that the other officers each had their own way of organizing things…and so did Rukia. When he’d agreed to join the Gotei he hadn’t thought about the paperwork aspect of things, but apparently Rukia spent almost three-quarters of her time mired in paperwork.

So that was one of the first things he tackled. He spent three days in the seated officers’ workspace, watching how they worked and getting to know them. Despite how he’d fawned over Ukitake and competed with Kiyone, Sentarō was a solid third seat and didn’t seem to resent Ichigo’s appointment. The fifth seat, Eguchi Akema, openly stared at him like he was a particularly tasty snack.

The eleventh and twelfth seats were empty; the previous occupants were casualties of the war, Ichigo learned, and Rukia was considering who to promote now that she had been captain for almost a year.

So Ichigo spent three more days introducing himself to the unseated members of the division. He watched the division members train under the leadership of the seated officers, making notes to himself about who showed particular promise.

Along the way he learned that in fact he was being _paid_ , and quite well at that, and that Uikitake had opened a bank account for him when he’d first been appointed as a substitute shinigami a decade ago. He wasn’t _rich_ by any means, but Ichigo was relieved that he didn’t have to rely entirely on that Kuchiki access pass. Suddenly a few of Rangiku and Renji’s more expensive habits made sense.

On the seventh day, he drew up an organizational plan and handed it to Sentarō, instructing him to get the other officers on board. He shut himself in Rukia’s office before anyone could complain about the extra work, and handed three different sheets of paper to Rukia, who looked exhausted already.

“What is this?” Rukia looked at the first sheet, which was a depiction of a flowchart.

“It’s the new organizational framework for all the paperwork this division generates,” Ichigo explained. “Assuming your other officers can stick to it, it should save everyone hours of time every week. If you stick to it, it should free up a lot of _your_ time, too.”

Rukia just blinked at him.

“Really. You seem to spend almost all of your time on paperwork. That may have been fine when you were fukutaicho and you were shouldering Ukitake’s work as well, but now you have meetings and a full division to run,” Ichigo pointed out.

“I seem to be getting everything done,” Rukia murmured hesitantly.

Ichigo snorted. “Sentarō and Fifth Seat Eguchi ratted you out, Taicho. You work nights to keep up.” He frowned gently and leaned closer, one fingertip brushing at the shadows under Rukia’s left eye. “Rukia, you don’t have to work yourself into the ground. Every officer seat is filled except for two, now. Let us – let me – help.”

She closed her eyes briefly and let herself lean into Ichigo’s touch, into the hand that shifted to curve around her cheek. “Are you just trying this because you’d rather fight than push papers around?” He laughed, and Rukia opened her eyes. “Alright, what else is there?”

“The second sheet is a list of the unseated division members who seem to be performing more strongly than their peers,” Ichigo explained as Rukia scanned over a list of twenty names. “Sentarō told me that the eleventh and twelfth seats have been empty for a decade.”

“Hn. And this?” She held up the third sheet of paper.

“That is _my_ proposed schedule for the next month. We both know that my kido isn’t up to standards and that I’m still rusty in everything else – especially since I just spent the last nine months…well. Not training,” Ichigo explained.

Rukia perused the schedule silently for a minute and glanced at the open door. Ichigo caught the look and stepped away to slide the door shut. “There is something else I’d like you to add to your schedule,” she said quietly when he’d stepped closer to her once more.

“Sure – what is it?”

She tapped the hilt of Sode no Shirayuki meaningfully. “The books my brother had said that it is possible that we could learn to communicate over long distances through our bond. That could be advantageous if we are ever separated in battle.”

He nodded briefly. “Yeah – we can figure it out.” Ichigo smiled down at her and one hand reached out to lightly touch hers. His smile widened when she turned her hand to fit into his. “Especially if that means I get to spend more time with you,” he teased.

Rukia scoffed. “Just wait until you have to start attending meetings with me. You’ll get sick of me fast.”

“Never.” They were on duty, but Ichigo’s eyes focused on her lips. “Come for a walk with me tonight?” he asked.

“Yes,” she murmured, and had to shake herself as she started to lean up towards him. They were on duty, and her window looked right onto the training grounds. “I’d like that.”

Ichigo smiled down at her, and their reiryoku twined around them. “I have to get outside. But I’ll see you tonight.”

According to the schedule he had drawn up, Ichigo’s duties for the day included training in the grounds right outside of Rukia’s window. It was quite some time before she was able to focus on her paperwork.

Later, Ichigo was in the courtyard staring up at the night sky when Rukia joined him, haori billowing around her in the cool night air. “You ready for that walk?” he asked, and slid Rukia’s hand into the crook of his arm.

“Mhm.” Her head leaned against his shoulder; locks of her long black hair whipped around in the wind.

The Thirteenth wasn’t far from a large garden with a meditative labyrinth in the Rukongai, and Ichigo steered her that way. Soon they were surrounded by evergreens as they walked along a winding path that led toward the center of the simple maze. So late at night the garden was empty of any other souls, and Rukia allowed the calm of the space to wash over her despite the heat of Ichigo next to her.

They reached the center of the labyrinth in silence. There was a bench nearby and Ichigo led her to it so that they could sit, leaning against one another. Finally, Ichigo reached into the sleeve of his shihakusho and pulled out a small, wrapped package that he gently set in Rukia’s lap.

“What is this?” Rukia’s free hand touched the package gently.

“It’s…” Though it was dark, Rukia could still see the flush of Ichigo’s cheeks in the light from nearby lanterns. “It’s a courting gift,” he admitted. “Something small, but I hope you like it.”

Rukia bussed her lips against his cheek and freed her other hand to peel off the white wrapping paper. She lifted the lid of the rectangular box inside, and with delicate fingers lifted out Ichigo’s present. “Oh, this is _beautiful_ ,” she whispered. “Where did you find this? When did you have _time_?”

Nestled in Rukia’s hand was a silver hair ornament. Clear and ice-blue crystals dripped down between two silver hair combs. The crystals created a looping and hanging pattern not unlike icicles. She looked closer and laughed just a little; on one comb an enameled white crescent moon hung between one of the loop of crystal beads, while on the other side a black sun nestled in such a way that it would be mostly concealed by her hair.

“I was exploring the first north district a few nights ago, trying to get my bearings. One of the shops was selling hair jewelry like this, and they agreed to modify one of their pieces,” Ichigo explained.

Rukia smiled up at him and carefully placed the hair jewelry back in its box and closed it so that the bauble wouldn’t get damaged. “I love it,” she assured him, and gently tugged at the front of his uniform.

Their eyes met, hers deep amethyst and his honeyed amber in the dim kido lights. They hadn’t kissed in a decade, and even after Ichigo’s arrival in Soul Society they’d done no more than hold hands. But as their lips met, soft and warm in the darkness, it was almost like they’d never been parted at all. Ichigo’s arm came around her back to support her as he deepened the kiss, waiting until her lips parted for him to lick into her mouth and find her tongue with his.

She had to stifle a moan in his mouth as their lips moved together and Ichigo’s other hand rested against the back of her neck. Warmth spread through her body, tingling low in her belly. Rukia could feel her reiryoku beginning to meld with Ichigo’s and she shifted closer to let him envelop her in his warmth. Around them the red thread twined and spun, looping but free of tangles and shining like a string of rubies in the lantern light.

The rumble of his moan echoed in her chest as he pulled her closer and twined his fingers in her hair. His arm tightened and pulled, and suddenly she was on his lap, straddling him as she rocked against him and stifled a little cry of pleasure against his lips. Even through their hakama he was hard against her.

Eventually they pulled back, Rukia resting her forehead against his. They were both breathing erratically and Ichigo shifted uncomfortably on the bench, hips rocking against hers again and sending another shock of pleasure through her.

“We should walk back,” Rukia suggested, when their breathing slowed. “It’s getting late.”

Ichigo straightened up and kissed her forehead, though he looked pained. He was _so_ hard beneath her, and this close to him she could feel how very much he needed her. “Just…give me a minute,” he asked, voice strained, and Rukia flushed brightly.

“Of course.” But she slid from his lap only reluctantly. She didn’t want to give him a minute, she wanted to _take_.

Eventually, Ichigo stood and offered his hand to Rukia to help her up. They set off through the labyrinth, retracing their steps to the entrance and then walking arm in arm back to the grounds of the Thirteenth Division. The guards at the division gate greeted them with knowing smiles but wished them both a good night. Ichigo walked Rukia to the door of her quarters and kissed her again. He whispered a goodnight against her lips and let her go inside alone before he took the few steps to his own quarters.

* * *

Zangetsu huffed out a breath as Shirayuki dropped down to the bed beside him, skin flushed and chest heaving. He flung an arm around her and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers and then pressing soothing, softer kisses to the marks he’d left on her neck and shoulders.

Shirayuki tucked herself against him and trailed pale fingertips along his chest. “How long do you think they’ll stay apart?” she asked when their breathing evened out.

He kissed the top of her head and stroked a hand along her back. “Dunno. They’re stubborn, and he’s got some idea in his head about _proper courtship_ and not rushing her.”

“Idiots.”

In Soul Society proper Ichigo and Rukia, separated by only a single wall, rolled over in their respective blankets and cursed their zanpakutō.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted it on tumblr, but never shared here the playlist I made for this fic. Prompted by a tumblr user who thought "Casual Affair" by Panic! At the Disco was a good fit for this fic. You can find the playlist [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1WKz85uvnWUEGT29dDHYWW?si=rvVb1krUT-CEnE3VJqBzCw)


	18. In Karakura (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and Rukia try to strengthen their bond, and Rangiku visits an old friend. It doesn't go well.

“So when can I go to the World of the Living, Taicho?” Rangiku asked only a day after Ichigo’s visit to the Tenth.

Toshiro glared at her over the pile of paperwork on her desk. Unlike his desk and office, which had some personal effects but were neat and _not_ covered in paperwork, Rangiku’s space looked like an entire division’s worth of paperwork had been dropped in it. Paperwork sat in piles on her desk, on the credenza behind it, on the floor, _and_ he knew there was probably more that she was hiding in the desk drawers. For a moment, Toshiro wished _he’d_ been the one to snatch up Kurosaki, who – rumor had it – had reorganized the way his entire division did paperwork.

Colorful clothing was piled up on the credenza, too, and the shelves were littered with _stuff_. He didn’t even know what half of it was. He _did_ know that there was sake somewhere in the office; she owned more than one set of cups, too, and those were part of the detritus on the shelves.

Sometimes, Toshiro worried about just how much sake was in the office.

Of course, the woman knew he’d let her go, and order her to visit Karin while she was there. “Exactly how far behind are you on your work, Matsumoto?” he grumbled.

“Oh! Not _that_ far behind, Taicho,” Rangiku drawled with a toss of her hair. She’d cut it after Gin’s death and had let it get long again, and she acted cheerful enough, but.

He still worried.

“Get this paperwork done and off your desk _properly_ , and you can go in two weeks,” Toshiro decided. “Ise Fukutaicho sent a threatening message two days ago demanding those reports, and I know they’ve been on your desk for a month.”

Rangiku made a moue of displeasure, but huffed and dragged a pile closer to her. “Yes, Taicho,” she agreed with a faint whine in her voice. “Nanao’s so _mean_ …”

Toshiro dragged a hand through his hair before he could stop himself. “I’ll be sending you a package for Kurosaki-san,” he said, and ignored the way Rangiku smirked at him. “So you’ll need to stop by the Kurosaki Clinic as well.”

“Of course. I’m happy to spend some time with Karin-chan,” Rangiku said with a giggle, and waggled her eyebrows at him. “You know, there’s a rumor going around that Momo asked you out.”

He swore he could feel a vein pounding in his forehead. “Momo is like a sister to me. And I’d say you must not have enough to do, if you’re busy gossiping about my love life,” he growled, “but you’re not even _doing your job at all_.”

Toshiro stalked away from his lieutenant’s desk without waiting for a response and slid the door to her office shut with such force that the wood cracked. He snarled and threw himself back into his own chair. This bigger, stronger body still took some getting used to, and so did the bigger temper that came with it. But –

 _But you can’t be a child anymore_ , Hyourinmaru rumbled calmly.

“Yeah,” he agreed in a whisper. Toshiro sighed and picked up the package from Karin. He hadn’t even opened it yet, wanting to wait until he had some privacy. Not that he thought she’d send something inappropriate with her own _brother,_ but lately his division seemed full of gossips. He glanced at the door into Rangiku’s office and carefully peeled the plain wrapping away.

 _Ah_ , he thought. She’d sent a few things this time. There were amanatto, his favorites, in a little pouch. He could get them here in Soul Society, but it was nice that she remembered what he liked. Beneath that were two of the latest tankōbon of a manga series that he _couldn’t_ get in Soul Society. He started to set them aside when a folded sheet of paper – the modern, thin kind from a notebook – slid out from between the two volumes and landed on his lap.

_Toshiro,_

_Hope you enjoy these. I’ve already read them, but I won’t spoil them for you._

_Be nice to Ichigo, will you? He’ll pretend he’s fine, and I know he’ll be happier there than he ever was here, but what happened to him is still lousy. I’ll tell you about it when I visit next month._

_Anyway, there’s something else for you in the back of the tank_ _ōbon._

_\- Karin_

Toshiro blinked. He knew a little about what had happened to make Ichigo lose control of himself – something about the leader of the Zero Division manipulating Kurosaki and Kuchiki Rukia’s memories. But it sounded like it was more than that. Kido flickered in his hand and turned the note to ashes. He wondered if he should send Karin a note warning her that Matsumoto was planning to visit.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Rukia and Ichigo fell into a sort of routine: every few nights he persuaded her to have dinner with him, or go for a walk to one of the gardens in the Rukongai. During the day, Ichigo ran herd on the other officers to make sure that they were following the new organizational plan, trained in healing kido with Hanatarō, and trained the unseated officers who were still struggling with zanjutsu. Twice a week Ichigo trained with Rukia and worked to get used to his “new” bankai; three times a week they tried to practice communicating through the red thread that bound him.

The books Rukia borrowed from the Kuchiki library were of little help; while both referred to the ability of Shinigami to communicate through the red thread, neither explained how to train that ability. They made no headway except in giving one another headaches.

Finally, Rukia suggested they sit in _jinzen_ and ask their respective zanpakutō for assistance. Ichigo obediently sat cross-legged on one of the pillows in Rukia’s office while she did the same across from him. Though Ichigo was out of practice at _voluntarily_ entering his inner world, he found his way into the necessary meditative state quickly by following along with Rukia’s slow, even breathing.

The difference between his inner world of ten months ago and what Ichigo saw as he landed atop a skyscraper was stark. Gone was the severe flooding, and skyscrapers once again jutted high into the air. It was night in his inner world and a full moon cast its glow over him. One of the skyscrapers looked much different from the rest, shorter but more welcoming; it looked more like an apartment building with a huge balcony. He headed in that direction by leaping from building to building, curious about the change.

He landed in a garden overflowing with flowers and sniffed appreciatively at the scent of andromeda. Ichigo wondered for a moment what the garden meant, but then a set of double doors opened in front of him and Zangetsu stepped out. “Things look a lot better, King,” he said. “Glad you’ve straightened things out with the Queen.”

Ichigo grinned. “Yeah. Feels a lot better not being tangled up,” he agreed. He glanced beyond Zangetsu and caught a glimpse of the apartment his hollow had come from. “Made yourself a home?”

“ _You_ made this. It showed up just before you went back to Soul Society to be with the Queen. I just claimed it. Wanted somewhere more comfortable than the rooftops when the snow lady’s here.”

At the reminder of Zangetsu and Shirayuki’s _frequent_ evening activities, Ichigo scowled. “Not that I’m unhappy that you’re with Shirayuki, but do you have to let me know about it every time you’re together?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t mind so much if you and the Queen would take a hint,” Zangetsu pointed out. “We’re part of you, King. I’m only doing with Shirayuki what _you_ want to do with the Queen.”

He flushed bright red. “I don’t want to rush her. And she’s a _noble_. She deserves all that courting stuff the book says I should do,” Ichigo protested. “I _want_ to give her that.” And he wanted it for himself, too; he couldn’t erase the last ten years, but he could do this much.

Zangetsu snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Rushing her would have been jumping her that first night you got here, King. You can give her the fucking she’s practically begging for _and_ court her.”

“She’s not _begging for it_ ,” Ichigo objected weakly, and his zanpakutō just snorted again.

“Shirayuki’s part of the Queen,” Zangetsu reminded him with a smirk on his face. “And she’s _insatiable_.”

Ichigo’s cheeks hurt. “…Really?” he managed.

“Yeah, last night she even let me —” Zangetsu howled his laughter as Ichigo covered his ears. “Didn’t think you were a _prude,_ King.”

“I’m _not_ , but it’s not my business,” Ichigo growled as he lowered his hands from his ears. “And that’s not why I’m _here_ , either.”

Zangetsu huffed and made a ‘go ahead’ motion.

“This red thread thing – one of the books I read said that Rukia and me could learn how to communicate through it. But it doesn’t say how and all we’re doing is giving each other headaches. So, we agreed to ask you and Shirayuki about it,” Ichigo explained.

Zangetsu hummed thoughtfully. “You want to be able to talk in her head, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Shirayuki ‘n I can connect across the worlds. I think you need some distance between you, King, to practice finding each other,” the zanpakutō mused.

“You…want me to go back to the World of the Living?” Ichigo asked incredulously, and Zangetsu snorted in response.

“ _Fuck_ no, just to the other end of the Seireitei. I’ve had enough of being away from my snow lady,” he swore.

Ichigo smirked. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you.” And he couldn’t help his grin when the spirit before him actually _blushed_.

Rukia opened her eyes onto her inner world to see a garden blooming in mid-winter. Though there was snow on the ground, the sky was blue, and the sun was high in the sky, casting its warmth over her. Snowbells sprouted up around the trunks of evergreen trees. And Sode no Shirayuki – Rukia flushed. “Um,” she said intelligently.

Her ordinarily staid, emotionally distant zanpakutō had draped herself over a white lounge chair. Rather than the beautiful, snow white kimono and lavender obi in which the spirit ordinarily appeared, Shirayuki wore only a simple white yukata. Her long, elegant hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. More shocking than that, though, she had _love bites_ on her neck, the faint red color of them standing out against her white skin.

“Welcome, Rukia.” Sode no Shirayuki’s voice was soft as she turned her head and gestured toward a nearby chair identical to the one she was using.

“You look…different,” Rukia ventured as she sat down in the cushioned chair next to Shirayuki. She’d sat _jinzen_ with her blade often, while Ichigo had been in the world of the living, but the furniture was new. So was the bright sunlight.

“Mn. Forgive me, I’m afraid that Zangetsu was rather insatiable last night,” Shirayuki explained, although Rukia thought sourly that she didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“I see. Do you have to share that with Ichigo and I every time?” she asked peevishly.

Her zanpakutō smirked – smirked! – at her. “Perhaps if you satisfied your urges, you wouldn’t be so focused on mine, Kuchiki Rukia.”

Rukia huffed. “We’re _courting_.”

“Then you’ll just have to put up with it. Zanpakutō don’t _court_ , and _you_ may be able to deny your needs for years at a time, but I won’t when my fated partner is here,” Shirayuki said lazily.

The zanpakutō was right, of course, but Rukia had to take a deep breath before she could say, “Sode no Shirayuki,” she murmured. “I’ve come to ask for your guidance.”

Shirayuki smiled.

When Ichigo and Rukia opened their eyes a few minutes later, Ichigo stood. “Did Shirayuki tell you what Zangetsu told me? About working on _finding_ each other first?” he asked and held his hand out to Rukia to help her stand.

“Yes. She suggested we put some distance between one another,” Rukia murmured. But her cheeks were flushed pink as she said it, and Ichigo raised an eyebrow, hand still holding hers.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Mm. Shirayuki and Zangetsu…”

Ichigo’s cheeks turned as red as hers. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“I’ll stay here, why don’t you find a good place to practice?” Rukia said, forestalling an embarrassing conversation about their zanpakutō.

They were on duty – it could wait a little while, Ichigo decided as he stepped out of Rukia’s office and sought out a good spot.

* * *

While Ichigo and Rukia were practicing, Rangiku waited at the Senkaimon impatiently. She had an entire bag full of treats for Orihime and Urahara had a gigai and his matter converter waiting for her at his shop. The researcher had been happy to hear of her trip, according to the Thirteenth Division member who’d been going off of his rotation in Karakura.

 _I’m sure Inoue-san would like that very much_ , Urahara’s quick note had read before promising the use of a gigai.

As soon as the guards finished opening the gate she stepped through, running through the space between worlds at an easy pace. It seemed somehow unlike Ichigo to abandon his child, she thought, even for the sake of Rukia and Ichika. Renji had told her about Ichika, late one night over too much sake just before Kuchiki Taicho had sent him off on another mission to Hueco Mundo. Rangiku huffed. _Relationships are messy_ , she thought. _Who needs them?_

She ignored the hint of moisture in her eyes and the flash of a memory, there and gone, of silver hair and a fox-like face. Rangiku had done enough crying over _him_ more than a decade ago.

It didn’t take long to cross between the World of the Living and the Soul Society when using a proper senkaimon. Rangiku stepped into the living world and landed just outside of Urahara’s shop. It was warm but raining, and she made a moue of disgust at the dreary sky above. But the door to the shoten was already opening, and she slipped inside quickly.

“Matsumoto-san,” Urahara greeted, grinning behind his usual fan. “It’s good to see you. Your gigai is ready.”

Rangiku gave a brief nod and followed him into the back of the shop. Her temporary, artificial body lay waiting for her, dressed for a rainy spring with a stylish-looking raincoat and a matching umbrella. She sank into it easily as Urahara took care of turning her gifts from Soul Society into things that Orihime – and Kazui – could use.

As Rangiku stepped back outside, she caught a glimpse of Urahara snapping his fan shut and looking deadly serious. But she had a friend to see, and she sought out Orihime’s reiatsu easily. It was in a different place, of course, but she followed it through the town on a meandering walk with her new umbrella shielding her from the rain.

 _Her reiatsu feels a little…different_ , Rangiku thought, as she drew closer. But then, she hadn’t seen the girl in years. People changed. _Reiatsu usually doesn’t_ , a little voice whispered.

But soon enough she arrived at a nice-looking apartment building. A security guard buzzed her in and directed her to the ninth floor; Rangiku had rarely used an elevator but it seemed easy enough to get in and push the required button. Then she was at Orihime’s door and ringing the bell.

She hadn’t expected Orihime to be cheerful, but – _Oh, Orihime_ , Rangiku thought.

The woman before her smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her hair was cut short, just below her chin, and fell limply against her cheeks. “Rangiku!” she said. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors today.” Orihime’s voice was cheerful enough but rang false in her friend’s ears.

“I thought I’d pay you a visit. I brought gifts for you,” Rangiku said, equally cheerful. “I’m on leave for _three whole days_ , can you believe it?”

“Aa! That’s so kind.” But Orihime didn’t move to let Rangiku into the apartment.

“May I come in? I’d love to meet Kazui too, if he’s home,” Rangiku said and beamed.

“O-oh, well, it’s a little messy, but of course, come in,” the other woman agreed.

Rangiku stepped by her and left her shoes in the genkan. Little alarm bells had started to go off in her head, and though she kept the smile on her face they only got louder as she looked around. The apartment was on the small side, but the kitchen looked nice enough and there were closed doors leading into what she presumed were the bedrooms and bathroom. But there were still boxes all over the living room, most of them still taped shut and a few with clothes hanging out of them. “Let me set everything down on the kitchen table,” she said, but when she stepped into the kitchen there wasn’t one.

“Oh, I haven’t had a chance to buy one yet,” Orihime admitted. “Kazui and I just eat on the couch.”

She set her bag on the countertop instead. “It’s important to find the right furniture,” Rangiku agreed, tone easy and light as she started to unpack her bag. “I brought some treats that I thought you’d like.” Before Orihime could say anything in response, Rangiku was opening cupboards to put things away. Cupboards that were nearly empty.

 _Did Kurosaki leave her with no money?_ she asked herself. But – no, he wouldn’t have done something like that. Especially not when he’d moved to Soul Society and had little use for any yen. There wasn’t exactly a moneychanger in Soul Society. Rangiku placed the little bags of snacks she’d brought in the cupboard. There was a funny smell in the apartment, she noticed. Like wet dog. “I have some things for Kazui too. Is he home?”

“Oh! Yes, let me get him, I’d love for you to meet him,” Orihime said. As she walked away, Rangiku took a surreptitious look in the refrigerator. That was nearly empty as well.

The young boy who followed Orihime from his room looked far less like Ichigo than she’d expected. He bowed respectfully when Rangiku turned to face him, and introduced himself properly, “I’m Kurosaki Kazui, it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” Rangiku said and swept the boy into a hug before he could even think of protesting. “I’m Matsumoto Rangiku, I’m a friend of your mother’s.” And her lips pursed when she was sure neither Kazui nor his mother could see them. The boy’s clothes weren’t clean and had that wet dog smell to them. And she didn’t know much about kids, but he felt a little…skinny.

Orihime didn’t seem entirely aware of the mess in her living room, which seemed odd. Rangiku didn’t remember her being a slob. “I’ll make some tea,” she offered. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

There were clothes piled on the couch, and Kazui pushed them to one corner so that they could sit down. The coffee table was a mess too, and Rangiku silently set about tidying the piles of papers so that there was room for the tea set. Some of the papers looked important.

“Those are the _divorce_ papers, and bills,” Kazui said in a whisper. “Kaasan doesn’t like when I move them. Or the boxes…”

Rangiku blinked. “Well, I’ll be very careful,” she reassured him softly. “I wouldn’t want to spill tea on them, of course.” The alarm bells in her head were _loud_. And she didn’t mean to peek, but she was nosy and Orihime had the water running to fill her tea kettle, so Rangiku looked as quickly as she could.

Even without knowing all that much about how money worked in the World of the Living, she understood quickly that Orihime’s cupboards weren’t bare because Ichigo had been stingy. There was something else going on.

“Oh, sorry! I keep meaning to move those out of the way,” Orihime said when she came back over with the tea tray. But she set it down atop the piles, and served tea and some of the cookies Rangiku had brought.

“It’s okay,” Rangiku reassured her. “I know you’ve had a busy few weeks. You must have just moved in, right?”

“Yes, just recently!”

Rangiku watched Kazui flinch out of the corner of her eye. His reiatsu felt nothing like Ichigo’s; it felt like Uryuu’s, and suddenly she understood far more than she’d meant to.

What a _mess._ She owed Ichigo an apology.

But they drank tea, and Rangiku did her best to keep the conversation light even as she tried to understand what the hell was going on. “How are things at the bakery?” Rangiku asked, remembering that Orihime had been working at the bakery since just after high school.

“Oh, the bakery is good,” Orihime said, and for the first time a light came into her eyes. “My boss is letting me try new recipes again. I wish I had some of my buns in the house, you’d love them!”

“That’s great!” Rangiku enthused, as Kazui sat silently beside her. “And what about school? I never liked school much, but I bet you’re smart like Orihime,” she said to her friend’s son.

He shrugged diffidently. “It’s okay. I like learning kanji the best, so I can read more.”

“Kazui’s nearly at the top of his class,” Orihime said proudly.

They chatted for a few more minutes, but then Kazui asked, “Can I be excused?” and went back to his room with one last cookie in hand. As soon as the door to his room shut behind him Orihime drained the last of her tea.

“When is Ichigo coming back?” she asked.

Rangiku blinked. “I’m not sure,” she said. “He’s been part of the Gotei for less than a month; he won’t get leave for a while.”

“No, not on leave. When is he moving back here?” Orihime asked plaintively.

Oh. _Oh, shit_ , Rangiku thought. “I don’t think he’s planning to do that, Orihime,” she said gently. “He’s taken a position as _fukutaicho_ in the Thirteenth Division.”

Her face fell, and Orihime’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought he’d be back by now…that he’d realize this was all a mistake,” she whispered.

“Aa – well.” She cast around for something to say. “Can I help you unpack a little, Orihime? I know you just moved in.”

“Oh, um. I’ll get to it, Rangiku-san,” Orihime prevaricated. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

“Are you sure? There are so many boxes, after all.” Rangiku kept her voice cheerful, but in her head, she was already composing a text to Rukia through her denreishinki.

Eventually she persuaded Orihime to let her help unpack, and together they unpacked five boxes before Orihime claimed that she needed a break. At least the clothes pile on the couch had been dealt with. But when Rangiku reached for the papers her friend snapped “Leave them!” in the harshest voice she’d ever heard out of the girl.

Rangiku excused herself and stepped into the toilet, blaming her gigai’s “plumbing”. And she pulled her denreishinki out and quickly tapped _orihime a mess still not unpacked no food in house. kazui clothes dirty seems skinny what should I do?_

She busied herself using the bathroom, flushing the toilet and then washing her hands before the denreishinki blinked with a new message.

_Call as soon as you can._

“Sorry Orihime,” Rangiku said as she left the bathroom. “I need to get going, I have to check in with the shinigami on duty. But I’d love to come back tomorrow. Can I take you and Kazui out for lunch? Dinner?”

“That’s so kind,” Orihime said. “We’d love that. Maybe dinner? Kazui has school until five and I’m at the bakery until four.”

“I’ll come by around six then,” Rangiku decided. “Can I say goodbye to Kazui? I still have something to give him!”

“Of course,” was the response, and Rangiku pulled a couple of packages from her bag and lightly tapped on Kazui’s door.

“Come in,” the boy called.

He had furniture at least, but it was identical to the furniture Ichigo had been using a decade ago, and looked worn. His bed was made, and he had a few books in a low case at one and of the room, but there wasn’t much else. This room had that wet dog smell too. “I brought some things from Soul Society,” Rangiku said, and offered the wrapped packages.

Kazui took them with a little nod, but he did a double take when he saw the labels on them. “From T—” he glanced at the door. “Thank you,” he said, and carefully peeled the labels off. “Can you…?” Rangiku took them and crumpled them into her hand. One of the packages was from Ichigo and one was from Ichika; she understood why Kazui wouldn’t want his mother to know that.

She watched as he opened them, revealing some kind of card game from Ichika. Ichigo had given him a journal – an expensive one, by the looks of it. Kazui frowned, but when he opened it his face cleared. “Oh, it’s a note,” he said quietly. “But it’s gibberish.”

Rangiku raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder. It was one of Rukia’s ciphers. “That’s the key,” she said softly, and tapped a strawberry with a kanji in the middle of it drawn in the corner. “Rukia does that.”

Kazui nodded and shut the journal. From Rangiku there were toys that she hoped were age-appropriate. “Are you…going to say anything?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” Rangiku said, and then when she heard the creak of Orihime’s foot on the wood floor, she beamed and reached over to ruffle Kazui’s hair. “I’ll be back tomorrow to take you out for dinner. I know a _great_ place.”

She hugged Orihime goodbye and waited until she was out of the apartment building and around the corner before she called Rukia.

“Kuchiki Taicho,” the other woman’s voice said, low and pleasant.

“It’s Rangiku.”

“Hold on.” Rangiku heard a door slide shut through the speaker, and a low murmur. “Ichigo’s here too. What’s going on?” Rukia asked.

“I’m…not entirely sure,” Rangiku admitted. “Orihime’s a mess, and so is her place. She’s still got almost everything in boxes, the divorce papers are all over her coffee table, and the apartment…smells. There’s hardly any food. Kazui feels kind of skinny, but I don’t spend much time around children so that might be nothing. She thinks Ichigo is going to realize he’s made a mistake and come back.”

There was swearing and something on the other end of the denreishinki shattered.

“ _Ichigo,_ ” came Rukia’s voice through the speaker.

“Sorry,” she heard in Ichigo’s voice, rough and raw.

“I thought you said you gave her some kind of settlement,” Rukia’s voice said, clearly talking to Ichigo.

“I did. There should have been enough for her and Kazui to be comfortable for years,” he muttered, coming in and out over the line.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Rangiku said when the line went silent again.

“Find Ishida,” Rukia said. “She’s always listened to him. And Arisawa Tatsuki, maybe. She might be able to help.”

“And Karin,” Ichigo added. “There’s a trust for Kazui. My sisters are in charge of it.”

“Will she listen to you?” Rangiku asked. But she knew that she hadn’t been wrong about whose reiatsu she’d felt.

There was a deep breath from the other side. “It’s complicated, Rangiku,” Rukia said softly. “Ichigo doesn’t have any parental rights anymore.”

“I see.” The divorce papers she’d skimmed had probably said something to that effect. Rangiku huffed out a breath. “Okay. I’ll find the Quincy and Arisawa, and see if they can help,” she agreed.

“I need to…” she heard Ichigo say.

The denreishinki disconnected as Rukia said softly, “Let Ishida and Tatsuki try first. But we can—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to an editing error on my part, chapter 17 originally implied that Rangiku watched Toshiro open his gift from Karin, while in this chapter he's opening his gift alone. I've edited chapter 17 accordingly. Sorry about that!


	19. I Think She Might be Really Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the world of the living, Uryuu, Tatsuki, and Rangiku spring into action to rally around Kazui.
> 
> In Soul Society, Ichigo and Rukia discuss their options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains continued non-graphic depictions and discussion of child neglect.

“ _Don’t_ tell me I can’t help him,” Ichigo roared, the force of his reiatsu shaking the thin walls of Rukia’s office. It was already after dark in the Seireitei, and Rukia was just grateful that all of the other officers were gone for the night.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she told him calmly. “I’m saying that we need to give Ishida, Rangiku, and Tatsuki a chance to help Kazui. You heard Rangiku. Orihime sounds unwell. Seeing you…I don’t think it would be good for her.”

He pulled a hand through his hair as he paced around the office, shoulders tight and power still spiraling. “But he’s – Rukia, she’s _neglecting him_. And _don’t_ tell me that he’s not my son and I shouldn’t care, I can’t—” When she flinched back from him, he stopped, expression crumpling.

“I would _never_ tell you that,” Rukia said, voice low and cold.

“I know, I’m sorry, I—” Ichigo threw himself into one of the chairs across from Rukia’s desk and buried his face in his hands.

“Ichigo.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he grabbed for her, arms tight around her waist as he buried his face in her slender stomach. “It sounds like Orihime is neglecting Kazui, but he isn’t in _immediate_ danger. Rangiku would have told us if she thought he was. Give Rangiku a chance to talk to Ishida, Tatsuki, and Karin.”

“But…”

Rukia drew him closer, one arm draping over his shoulders while the other settled in his hair. “I’ll ask Nii-sama for permission to use the clan’s senkaimon and contact Urahara. When Rangiku contacts us again, we’ll be ready if we need to go to the world of the living,” she murmured.

His arms tightened. “You’ll go with me?” Ichigo asked, raising his head to look up at her. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry; Rukia could feel the slight dampness of her shihakusho where he’d been pressed against her.

“Idiot,” she said affectionately. “Of course I will.”

* * *

In the world of the living, Rangiku didn’t have a hard time finding the Quincy; fortunately for her, it turned out that he liked hanging out on the rooftop of his father’s hospital. He didn’t look happy to see her – not that she blamed him – but he inclined his head respectfully when she stepped onto the rooftop sans gigai the next day. “Matsumoto-san,” he said politely.

“Ishida-san,” she said in return. “Kurosaki and Rukia sent me.”

“What do they want?” Ishida asked disinterestedly and pushed his glasses up his nose, making the light reflect off the lenses.

“It’s about Kazui.” _That_ got his attention immediately, and the young doctor took a step closer to her.

“Is he sick? Did something happen to Orihime?”

A stiff breeze blew over the top of the building, ruffling Rangiku’s hair and sending her shihakusho billowing out. “Maybe we’d better sit down, Ishida-san,” she suggested, but at the stubborn set of his jaw she shook her head and said quietly, “I have reason to believe that Orihime is…struggling to adapt to life as a single mother.”

“Struggling how? I thought Ichigo gave her a lot of money.” The space between Ishida’s forehead wrinkled.

“Ah…money isn’t the problem,” Rangiku said hesitantly. “It seems that she’s struggling to care for him.” And she explained, as his expression grew ever grimmer, her observations from the previous day.

Ishida swore under his breath and pulled his glasses off so that he could scrub a hand over his face. “She hasn’t let me see him since Kurosaki left,” he said finally. “I promised I’d keep an eye on him, but Orihime – she won’t even open the door for me.”

“I…think she’s sick,” Rangiku said carefully. “She seems to think that Kurosaki is going to come back to her. And I think we both know that won’t happen. Not even for his son.”

He shoved his glasses back on and snorted. “Not unless someone erases his memory again. Has he married Kuchiki-san yet?”

“Oh, they’re _courting_ the old-fashioned way,” Rangiku assured him. “Something to do with the noble clans. Anyway, I told Orihime that I’m taking her and Kazui out to dinner tonight at six, and I’m supposed to talk to Arisawa-san too. I thought maybe between the three of us we could help…”

She watched as Ishida scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking oddly like Ichigo in that moment. It wasn’t in his face or his eyes, but in the movement of his hand, in the habit that was so much like the other man’s. “I’ll call Tatsuki,” he decided. “My shift ends at five.” His gaze sharpened. “You didn’t see any bruises?”

“I don’t think she’s _hurting_ him,” Rangiku finally said.

Ishida nodded solemnly. “I’ll meet you at Orihime’s apartment just before six, Matsumoto-san. I need to call Tatsuki and get back to my shift.”

Rangiku nodded and leapt from the roof again once Ishida pulled his cellphone from his pocket.

True to his word, Ishida and Tatsuki were waiting for Rangiku when she arrived at Orihime’s apartment building a few hours later. Tatsuki looked the same as when they’d first met: dark, spiky hair cropped short and a tough, intelligent look in her eyes.

“Orihime’s been avoiding my calls,” Tatsuki said without preamble as they rode up to their friend’s floor in the elevator. “I told her I’d be here for whatever she needed, but she doesn’t even answer my texts.”

Ishida and Rangiku exchanged a look. “I’ll ring the doorbell, and you two should stay out of sight until she opens the door,” Rangiku decided. “She opened the door readily enough for me. Maybe because I can get a message to Kurosaki.”

Tatsuki made a face. “Damn Ichigo, just abandoning her like this! She wouldn’t even tell me what happened.”

The Quincy took a deep breath. “It’s a long story, but it’s not Ichigo’s fault,” he said quietly. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out onto the ninth floor.

Rangiku led the way to Orihime’s apartment and put on a cheerful expression before ringing the doorbell. There was a shuffling and then a running noise from inside before her auburn-haired friend opened the door. “Oh! Rangiku, you’re a few minutes early. Kazui and I are still getting ready.”

Ishida winced at the false cheer in her voice and glanced at Tatsuki.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’m happy to entertain myself,” Rangiku said, and smiled until Orihime somewhat reluctantly pulled the door open further. Rangiku beamed and put a hand on the door to prevent it from closing until Ishida and Tatsuki appeared behind her.

“O-oh, Rangiku, I didn’t realize you’d invited Ishida-kun and Tatsuki-chan,” Orihime said, voice pitching higher with nerves, as Rangiku herded her out of the doorway so that the other two could step inside.

Ishida’s nose wrinkled and he exchanged another look with Rangiku. The apartment really did smell and there were so many boxes piled in the living room. “I haven’t had a chance to see your new place,” was all he said, though, as Orihime wrung her hands.

“And _I_ haven’t seen Kazui in months,” Tatsuki put in. She sniffed carefully, not at all subtle about it. “Hime, your place…do you have a leak or something? Do you need a plumber?”

Rangiku turned her head and saw Kazui peeking out from the doorway to his bedroom. She shot him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but when her attention returned to her friend, she was deadly serious. “We’re worried about you, Orihime. And about Kazui-kun.”

Orihime drew herself up to her full height. “Kazui and I are _fine_ ,” she said, voice sharp. “And I don’t appreciate you bringing uninvited guests to…to judge me!”

Tatsuki scoffed, but Ishida just crossed the living room to stand in front of Kazui. “You remember me, right Kazui-kun?” he asked gently. At the boy’s nod, he said, “I’d like to examine you, if that’s okay. Matsumoto-san, Arisawa-san, and I are here to help you.”

“Are you going to help Kaasan?” Kazui asked softly, and Ishida reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. He flinched back, and the doctor’s expression darkened.

But. Maybe that didn’t mean anything. “We’re here to help both of you,” Ishida emphasized. “As much as we can.” He left the door wide open as Kazui sat on the edge of his bed, and pulled out a stethoscope. “Can you remove your shirt? Keep your shorts on, though.”

Kazui pulled his shirt off obediently, and Ishida’s lips thinned. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Ah. Nothing at all.” Except that Kazui really _was_ a little too thin. He wasn’t a large man, and Orihime carried her weight in her chest, but – this seemed like more than just genetics. Ishida stuck the buds of his stethoscope in his ears and rubbed the other end against his shirt to warm it up a little. “I’m just going to listen to your heartbeat and breathing, okay? And then I’ll take your blood pressure.”

Kazui sat quietly as his birth father listened to his heart and then his lungs, and obediently held out his arm so that Ishida could wrap a pediatric-sized blood pressure cuff around his arm.

“How often does Inoue-san do laundry?” Ishida asked when he was done and Kazui had his shirt back on.

Kazui blushed with embarrassment. “I try to wash the clothes,” he said softly. “But I’m not very good at it yet. And I can’t hang them up right, the shower curtain rod is too tall for me.”

 _That explains the smell_ , Ishida thought. He gritted his teeth before smoothing his expression. “What do you eat?”

“Leftovers from the night before if Kaasan cooked. But I’m tall enough to reach the rice cooker with a stool, so I’m learning to cook. I know how to make rice and boil eggs,” Kazui said proudly. “And I’m getting better at using the steaming basket with the rice cooker to cook other stuff. Sometimes there’s not much in the house, though. Kaasan forgets to shop sometimes.”

Ishida suppressed a twitch. “Does she ever bring anything home from the bakery?”

The boy shrugged. “She hasn’t been to the bakery in a while, Ishida-san. I don’t think she works there anymore.”

“I see.” Ishida tucked his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff away. “Does she say anything to you about Kurosaki-san?”

Kazui winced. “She um. She thinks he’s going to come back and live with us again and marry her again. But he was _really_ mad when everything happened, Ishida-san. He said he’d come back to visit me, but Kaasan thinks he’ll get bored of Kuchiki-san.” He darted a look up at his father. “She doesn’t call her Kuchiki-san though.”

“What does she call her?” Ishida asked carefully. When Kazui bit his lip, he leaned closer. “It’s okay, you can whisper it to me if you want.” The boy whispered a word into his ear and Ishida blanched.

“Masuda-sensei said it’s not a nice word,” Kazui explained solemnly, “when I asked her what it meant.”

Ishida wondered what else Kazui’s teacher might have observed, and whether she had shared those observations with anyone. “It isn’t. Wait here a few minutes, Kazui. I need to talk to Inoue-san.” He stood and shut Kazui’s door; his conversation with Orihime wasn’t going to be an easy one, and he’d rather Kazui didn’t hear it.

The woman he’d loved for years was sitting on the sofa with Rangiku and Tatsuki to either side of her. There were piles of papers on the coffee table, boxes all over the living room…Ishida took a quick look in the bathroom – not horrifying, but not exactly clean – and then in Orihime’s room, which had several half-full boxes in it and more of that wet dog odor. He walked back into the living area and set his bag down.

Orihime was already in tears. Ishida looked down at the paperwork piled on the coffee table and calmly shuffled several piles together before perching on the resulting patch of bare wood. “Our son,” he began deliberately, ignoring the way Tatsuki’s eyes widened, “isn’t getting enough to eat and thinks you quit your job at the bakery, Orihime.”

Tatsuki looked at Rangiku over their friend’s head and mouthed, _he’s the father?_ as Orihime gave a fresh sob into her tissues.

“He’s learning to cook, which wouldn’t be a bad thing except that he’s doing it because you won’t, and every inch of this apartment smells because he’s trying to do the laundry and can’t hang wet clothes properly,” Ishida continued bluntly. “And he’s under the impression that you think Kurosaki is going to come back and sweep you off your feet. Which is unlikely, given that you tricked him into marriage in the first place.”

Orihime just sobbed into her tissues again.

“Ishida…” Tatsuki’s brow furrowed. He held up a hand.

“I understand that you are mourning what you can’t have anymore, Orihime, but Kazui needs you to take care of him, and you need to take care of yourself. If you don’t, I’ll go to the courts, demand a paternity test, and sue you for custody.”

That caused another fresh wave of tears. “You can’t do that,” she whispered. “He’s _my_ son. And Ichigo is going to come back and…”

There was another exchange of looks over the distraught woman’s head. “Orihime, Kurosaki-san isn’t coming back. Remember what I told you yesterday? He took a high-ranking position in the Gotei Thirteen,” Rangiku explained carefully. “He’s a fukutaicho, like I am.”

“And even if he wasn’t, you still need to take care of Kazui _now_ ,” Ishida pressed. “Does she still have no food in the house?” he asked, directing the question to Tatsuki.

“Hn. Just the snacks Matsumoto-san said she brought yesterday and some canned things.”

He sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger. “Tatsuki is going to go buy some groceries for you, and while she’s gone, Rangiku and I are going to help you finish unpacking these boxes.”

“You can’t—”

“Orihime, I am a _mandated reporter._ That means I _have to_ report suspected child abuse. If you don’t let us help you, I’ll be forced to call the police and they’ll launch an investigation. Kazui could be taken away from you and put in a center,” Ishida said severely. “And that will only make it easier for me to ask for custody.”

“I’m not _abusing him!_ ” she wailed and sobbed into her pile of tissues again. “We’re just still getting settled, that’s all.”

Tatsuki scoffed but grabbed her bag and stood. “I’ll be back in an hour. Is Kazui allergic to anything?” she asked. When Orihime just shook her head helplessly, she left the apartment without a backward glance.

“Rangiku, if you would help Orihime unpack? There are boxes in her bedroom, too. I’m going to sort through all these papers,” Ishida muttered, and pulled one of the piles closer.

“You have no _right!”_ Orihime exclaimed, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks flushed. “Those are my private papers!”

“Which you’ve been storing in plain sight on your coffee table for weeks. Rangiku?”

The older woman stood and pulled Orihime up beside her. “Come on, Orihime. I’ll put on some music, it’ll be fun! And you can show me how to use your laundry machine; in the Seireitei everything has to be washed by hand.” She tugged the protesting woman into the bedroom.

Ishida huffed out a breath and occupied himself sorting out the divorce papers and custody agreements from the bills, both paid and unpaid, that had been gathering dust. There was still the matter of her bakery job, but he knew Kurosaki had given her more than she’d deserved, really. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. _He_ was almost as much at fault for this as Orihime was. He glanced toward Kazui’s closed door, and continued sorting.

Tatsuki was back in a little less than an hour with several bags of groceries, and Kazui – who’d ducked out of his bedroom to see what was happening – helped her put the fresh vegetables and eggs away while she filled up the lowest shelves in the cabinets – the ones he could _probably_ reach if he had to. They threw the windows open to air out the apartment, and a warm breeze blew through the screens.

Cheerful music filtered out of Orihime’s bedroom, along with the sound of opening drawers and the occasional pop of a box being flattened. The washer was already humming along, the occasional gurgle of draining water echoing out of the bathroom.

Ishida put the paid bills and legal paperwork away in a drawer, leaving the unpaid bills – a not insubstantial pile and two of them overdue – on the table. “Kazui-kun, do you know where these boxes are supposed to go?” he asked when his son had finished helping Tatsuki. “I think it would be best if they weren’t sitting in here anymore.”

His son frowned – looking remarkably like him – and peered into one open box. “This one is towels and stuff for the bathroom,” he announced. “But it smells.”

 _Everything_ smelled, Ishida thought. Orihime was lucky that she didn’t have carpeting. “Alright. Can you drag it to the bathroom and take the towels out so they can be washed, and bring the empty box back out here?” Kazui did as he asked while Ishida opened two more boxes. There were sheets, wrinkled and odd-smelling from being packed in cardboard for weeks, and more towels.

Tatsuki discovered a still-sealed box of pantry supplies and shook her head as she carried it into the kitchen to put everything away.

It was almost nine by the time they were done, but the living room was free of boxes, the bathroom was sparkling clean, and a huge pot of curry was bubbling away on the stove while the electric rice cooker quietly ticked away, cooking several cups of rice. Orihime had dried her tears, finally, and was hanging up a second batch of laundry to dry in the bathroom. There was still quite a pile to wash, but it would need to wait until morning.

Eventually, Tatsuki passed out bowls of chicken curry over rice, and glasses of water. Ishida watched Orihime carefully from his seat on the floor, a bowl of curry in hand. Without a proper kitchen table and not enough room on the sofa for five, they gathered on the sofa and floor, eating the chicken curry that Tatsuki had prepared. Kazui ate his portion quickly and asked for more as his mother picked at her nearly full bowl.

“Kazui, why don’t you help me clean up?” Rangiku asked sweetly when they were finished eating, giving Ishida and Tatsuki another opening.

Ishida waited until Kazui had collected his bowl and water was running in the kitchen sink to look at Orihime again. “I know it hurts, Orihime, but you need to move past your divorce. Kazui needs you. I’ll be here for him too, if you let me, but you haven’t been giving him what he needs, and you _know_ that. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to meet with a counselor,” he said bluntly.

The jut of her lip was stubborn and she wouldn’t meet his eyes as she said, “Kurosaki-kun is going to come back, you’ll see! He’s just been tricked by that – that _whore_.”

His jaw slackened and dropped. “Orihime,” he said more carefully, “Kuchiki-san is your friend, and she suffered He might come visit Kazui, but he isn’t going to pursue a relationship with you. Do you understand that you hurt him by lying to him for so long?”

“Kazui is _his son_ ,” she mumbled, and started crying again.

Ishida glanced at Rangiku, whose eyes were wide and shocked. “I see,” he said after a long moment. “But having a relationship with Kazui doesn’t mean that he wants to have a relationship with you, Orihime. Kurosaki was always meant to be with Kuchiki-san. He’s been in love with her since he was fifteen.” The words brought on a fresh wave of sobbing. He scowled and shook his head. He was no psychologist; he was probably just making things worse.

“But he married me,” she whispered.

“I know that it’s not what you want to hear,” Ishida said, pressing on. “But you have to let go of him, Orihime. You can find your own happiness now. You can go back to school and have a career, the way you wanted.”

“And we’ll _all_ be here for you and Kazui, Orihime,” Rangiku said emphatically, and wrapped her arm around the younger woman to pull her closer. “I’ll babysit as often as _Taicho_ lets me, and I know Arisawa-san will too. But you need to let us help.”

When Orihime looked up from her tissues again Kazui was watching her quietly, Ishida’s eyes staring back at her. And she scrubbed her hands over her face. “Kurosaki-kun will come back for his son,” she said firmly, as the blood seemed to drain from Ishida’s face.

They didn’t leave the apartment until nearly midnight, long after Rangiku tucked Kazui into bed and the three of them had another argument, sotto voice, with a still-distraught Orihime. It went absolutely nowhere.

“I hate to say it,” Tatsuki muttered as they rode the elevator down together, “But I think you do need to report Hime. I think she’s sick, Uryuu. Maybe a case worker can help her find a counselor.”

“Hn. I’ll call them in the morning,” Uryuu agreed. “Matsumoto-san, can you call Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san in the morning? I want to talk to Kurosaki before I do anything more drastic.”

“Like file for custody?” Tatsuki asked bluntly. “I can’t believe Kazui is your kid.”

Ishida just scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “Yeah,” he said, and stared at the digital display that was counting down the numbers to the lobby floor. “I can’t believe it either.”

Rangiku texted Rukia as soon as they left the apartment building; it was later in Soul Society than it was here in the world of the living, and she didn’t want to wake her friend if she was already asleep. _ishida arisawa + me staged an intervention,_ she sent. _but it’s not looking good call you in the morning w more kazui not in immediate danger but orihime is delusional._

* * *

In the Soul Society, Rukia rolled over in bed as her denreishinki beeped at her. She read the message quickly and then settled back down. Ichigo had finally fallen asleep on the other side of the wall separating them, and she didn’t want to wake him. _And if you torture us tonight, I’ll make you regret it_ , she thought sternly at Sode no Shirayuki, and rolled back onto her left side.

 _He’s awake again,_ Shirayuki murmured instead of answering directly. _He felt your power spike when you read the message from Rangiku._

As soon as Shirayuki drew her attention to it Rukia could feel him, restless and worried. “I’ll make tea,” she said quietly, and rose from her bed. She’d made tea for herself so many sleepless nights in her quarters that Rukia could do it with her eyes closed, and sometimes did. Her porcelain tea set decorated with pale strawberries and their flowers – a birthday gift from Rangiku that Rukia was beginning to think had been unintentionally subversive – was already clean and on the countertop. Hochija leaves from the Kuchiki stores, fresh water, a little sugar – it was all easy to gather, and soon she had a freshly-brewed pot of tea. She opened her door and carried the tea set out to the low table on the landing.

Ichigo was still awake, and Rukia rapped lightly on his door before sliding it open, face lit by a tiny ball of kido. “Ichigo?” she called gently. His tall, lanky form moved in the darkness and his eyes were heavy-lidded when he reached her.

“Was I keeping you up?” he asked, voice low and rough. His shoulders were tight, and his hands clenched and released at his side.

“No,” she said softly. “Come have tea with me.”

He grunted but followed her, barefoot, onto the landing and sat next to her on the sofa. He wore only a pair of dark gray pajama pants; his chest was bare and Rukia’s cheeks flushed slightly. In the light his scars seemed softer, but she could still spot the ones she’d given him, to first give and then return to him the powers of a shinigami. She dismissed the kido light, as the sconces on the landing were a much better light source. “Did Rangiku tell you anything?” Ichigo asked as Rukia filled two teacups and offered one to him.

“Drink your tea first,” she said softly. “It’s hot.”

“Rukia.”

She sighed and pulled the denreishinki from a pocket of her yukata, offering it to him. It didn’t have a password of any kind (and he probably would have been able to guess it, if it did), so it took him just a second to tap the screen and read the message. “We’ll talk to her in the morning,” Rukia promised as he handed the phone back. “And then we’ll go to the manor and use Nii-sama’s senkaimon.”

His eyes gleamed golden in the light from the sconces. “ ** _I’ll kill her_ **if she hurts him,” he said, voice half Zangetsu’s. The zanpakutō spirit and hollow was close to the surface tonight, then. Rukia wasn’t surprised; the chill of Sode no Shirayuki was close as well, reaching for her partner sword to calm him.

“We’ll make sure that she doesn’t,” Rukia said briskly, and pressed the left side of her body into his until some of the tension bled from him. “We’ll do whatever we have to.”

He lifted the cup of tea to his lips and took a long sip, heedless of the way it must have burned going down. “I did things the legal way, Rukia,” Ichigo said, voice still rough. “I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought Kazui needed her – _he’s her son_ ,” he finished, and his voice cracked.

She took the teacup from him and set it down when his hand squeezed around it a little too tightly. “I know,” Rukia murmured to him, and slid her hand into his. He twined their fingers together and pulled her closer with his other arm, so that her back was pressed against his chest, and rested his chin on the top of her head. His skin was hot through the thin layer of her sleeping yukata. “I know,” she said again. “We all thought that he needed his mother.”

“What if he stayed here?” Ichigo’s voice was a low rumble against her back.

Rukia sipped her tea before responding. “Kazui is still a living soul,” she said, voice gentle. “And he isn’t a shinigami like you. He’s a human and a Quincy.”

“Uryuu didn’t have a problem staying here,” Ichigo pointed out. “And Chad and Orihime were here for a week after we rescued you.” His arm tightened around her and he tugged her closer.

He was starting to put her in mind of a burr, but Rukia didn’t resent it in the least. For all that they’d been _courting_ for weeks now, Ichigo had been respectful almost to the point of shyness, hands never straying and lips going no further than the length of her neck. Having his warmth wrapped around her like this – she wanted it. She wanted him to take comfort in having her close. She set her tea down and covered his hand with her own. “I’ve always been told that it isn’t possible,” she said softly. “But – we can ask Urahara. What about Uryuu, though? I thought you wanted him to have a chance to get to know his son.”

“I do.” Ichigo shifted, and then scooped her up. Rukia squeaked as he stretched out along the length of the sofa and draped her atop him, arms pressing her tight against him. “This is more comfortable,” he said, his voice a rumble low in his chest.

“Hn. How can Uryuu get to know Kazui if he’s staying here?” She settled down against him, legs falling to either side of his and head falling to his chest. He was so _warm_.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Ichigo grumbled. One large hand stroked gently along her back. “Maybe as a last resort, if we can’t…fix this. Maybe she’ll get better.”

Rukia’s hand pressed gently against his heart. “Maybe,” she agreed softly.

“You’ll come with me?” he asked again, and she raised her head to look at him. His eyes were still gleaming gold in the light of the sconces, but the expression on his face was so _vulnerable_ that she reached a hand up to cup his cheek.

“Fool,” she said gently. “Don’t you know that I’ll go wherever you go? Haven’t I already told you that I’ll always support you?”

He drew her closer and pressed their lips together. Her eyes fluttered shut as they kissed, soft and slow against each other. “Yeah,” Ichigo murmured against her mouth, and Rukia’s eyes slid open to look into his. “Guess I am a fool, needing you to remind me.”

“Hmph.” Her lips were on his again, thorough but gentle as his heart sped up under her hand. “I’ll remind you as many times as you need to hear it. I’ll bear your pain when you need me to, I’ll fight in your place if you can’t.”

The words were similar to ones she’d used so many years ago, just before he’d lost his powers, and Ichigo pulled her more tightly against him. “I know,” he said softly. “I know.” They kissed again and again, until their hearts were pounding in their chests and the red thread was swirling around them, gleaming and glittering.

It was Ichigo who stopped them this time, tucking her head beneath his chin and tightening his arm around her when she shivered against him. “We should try and get some sleep,” he whispered, voice rough.

“Yes.” Rukia let her eyes slip shut and breathed out slowly, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. She wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him, to run her hands over every inch of him, but Ichigo was right. And this – she didn’t want to take advantage of him when he was upset about Kazui, about Orihime.

Still, neither of them moved. Ichigo’s arm tightened again and their reiryoku twined together as they lay together quietly. Eventually, they drifted to sleep right there on the sofa, breathing even and slow. Despite everything, it was the best night of sleep Rukia had gotten in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A disclaimer: Uryuu is not a psychologist or social worker, and while I did do some research, this chapter may not hew entirely to the reality of child welfare laws or CPS in Japan. 
> 
> I realize the past two chapters have gone to a darker and perhaps more dismaying place than the rest of the fic, as I've largely left the children out of any peril up to this point. Hopefully I haven't chased everyone away. While I try not to leave spoilers, I do want to say that this story is not intended to be a tragedy, and that Kazui has at least seven different adults in his life who are concerned for his welfare.


	20. Vigilante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo and Rukia bide their time - until they can't.

They barely waited until morning to call Rangiku, who answered on the first ring and explained, voice taut, what she, Tatsuki, and Uryuu had done to help Kazui. “Ishida wants to talk to the local authorities first,” she said finally. “He needs to make a report, and wants to see if Kazui’s homeroom teacher has made one, too.”

“And then what?” Rukia asked, as she and Ichigo huddled around the table in her quarters, tea stone cold in their cups. The denreishinki sat in the middle of the table, its speakers as high as they could go.

“He said something about the court system,” Rangiku admitted, voice a little tinny. “He threatened Orihime with it, but I think he’s serious.”

Ichigo scrubbed a hand through his hair, the other fisting tightly in the fabric of his shihakusho. “I don’t want Kazui to end up in a guidance center,” he said roughly. “Onishi-san – the lawyer who handled my divorce – might be able to help. Urahara has his contact information.”

Rukia reached over and took Ichigo’s hand in hers. “How long does Ishida want us to give him?” she asked softly. “We were going to use the manor’s senkaimon tonight.”

There was a soft murmur on the other end of the line, and Ishida’s voice came over the speaker. “Give me a few weeks, Kuchiki-san,” he requested. “I’ll speak with your lawyer, Kurosaki. It’s been a while since my pediatric rotation, but I know it’s better if Kazui stays here and in the same school.”

“You’re _sure_ he’ll be okay for a few weeks?” Ichigo pressed, hand tightening around hers. Rukia winced and he loosened his grip on her hand before mouthing an apology.

“She’s not hitting him,” Ishida said, “and Tatsuki and I will check on them. Orihime’s mad at us, but she won’t want a case worker involved, so I think she’ll let one of us into the apartment.”

They exchanged a look, but Ichigo gave Rukia a brief nod. “We’ll give you a few weeks, then,” she agreed.

“Urahara-san has agreed to give Ishida-san a denreishinki so that he can contact you if he needs to,” Rangiku said, coming back on the line. “And I’m stopping by your sisters’ place this morning before I come back to Soul Society.”

“Thanks, Matsumoto-san,” Ichigo said quietly. “Say hi to Karin and Yuzu for me, will you?”

“Of course, Kurosaki-san.”

After they hung up, Rukia pulled him closer and he followed, wrapping himself around her. They needed to go back on duty – he had a training session to run and she had a captain’s meeting – but for a long moment they held one another, reiryoku twining tightly and bond thrumming around them.

Eventually, they parted to get dressed. Ichigo washed and dressed in his quarters, then picked up his badge before pulling on his sandals and stepping back onto the landing. Rukia was waiting for him, wearing the crystal hair ornament he’d given her as his first courting gift. “It looks pretty on you,” he complimented, and leaned down so that he could brush his lips against hers. “Do you mind? I always get my sleeve caught,” Ichigo muttered when he pulled back, offering the badge to her.

Rukia rolled her eyes good-naturedly and tied the badge onto his left bicep carefully. “I think you just like when I do it,” she teased.

A smirk played over Ichigo’s lips. “I might,” he agreed, and took her hand to escort her downstairs. Ichigo let Rukia’s hand go as their offices came into view, but Sentarō was waiting for them, a smirk playing on his face.

“Good morning Kuchiki Taicho, Kurosaki Fukutaicho,” he greeted. “The group of new division members you requested are waiting on the eastern side of the training grounds, Fukutaicho.”

“Thanks, Sentarō,” Ichigo said and gave Rukia a nod before he pushed his way through the large wooden doors and headed in that direction.

“I have some reports for you to review before your meeting,” Sentarō said, the picture of propriety as Rukia looked at him. “Ise-san will appreciate having them on time.”

“Hn. Thank you, Sentarō,” Rukia murmured, and took the pile from his outstretched hand.

He nodded in acknowledgement and stepped back toward the room set aside for the seated officers. As soon as he rounded the corner, Rukia heard him mutter, quietly but not quietly enough, “Next round of sake is on you, Eguchi. Your date in the pool’s passed as of this morning.”

“Stubborn,” Eguchi muttered. “She should just pin him down and tear his clothes off. I would.”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed. Were they – _betting_ on when she and Ichigo would sleep together? She stepped closer to hear more despite herself.

“Tch. She’d bust you back down to the academy, if you tried. He’s _courting_ her, the way Kuchiki Taicho deserves after the last ten years married to that red-headed baboon.”

“Romantic,” Eguchi agreed. “But I’d still have torn his clothes off by now.”

Shaking her head, Rukia stepped into her office. Sentarō had never liked Renji; trust him to be a romantic about her and Ichigo. She settled in at her desk and set up her ink and brushes before taking a look through the reports her Third Seat had given her. She had to admit that the paperwork situation was much improved already; most of her officers seemed happy enough to go along with Ichigo’s new system. And Nanao _had_ been very complimentary about the timeliness of the division’s reports.

Reports reviewed, Rukia tucked them under her arm and hurried for the captains’ meeting. She was neither the first nor the last to arrive and took her place next to Zaraki and across from Kurotsuchi. Both captains eyed her with interest, but it was Zaraki who asked, “You gonna let me at Kurosaki anytime soon, Kuchiki?”

She smirked. “You missed that opportunity a year ago, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Che. I knew who he was here for.” When Rukia blinked up at him like she’d been poleaxed he smirked, one eye fixed on her while the other remained covered with a patch.

“How…?”

His teeth gleamed as he grinned openly at her, sharp canines a touch too prominent. “He only ever broke into this place for one reason.”

Kyōraku Soutaicho called the meeting to order before Rukia could respond, but Zaraki’s remark stayed with her. The Eleventh Division, ordinarily so bloodthirsty, _had_ stayed away from the action when Ichigo – taken over by Zangetsu – had broken into Soul Society. Even Madarame and Ayasegawa, when they’d finally shown up, had hung back when they saw Ichigo with his zanpakutō drawn to defend her.

 _Huh_ , she thought, and forcibly turned her attention to the Soutaicho.

* * *

Ichigo and Rukia spent the next month biding their time and exchanging texts with Ishida about his attempts to navigate the legal system. _Onishi-san refused to take the case. He said even with a paternity test I won’t get anywhere_ , one text read.

 _Kazui’s teacher made a second report to the police. Hoping it will go somewhere_ , said another.

In the meantime, Ichigo and Rukia spoke with Urahara, cornering him in the not-so-secret lab he kept in the Seireitei. The former exile hummed under his breath, cane tapping lightly on the floor as he listened. “Kazui will be fine,” he said, and traced a pattern on the ground with the concealed Benihime. “It’s not _ideal_ at his age, but he can easily spend months or even years here without a problem.”

Even as Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief, Urahara narrowed his eyes. “Except if Kurotsuchi gets his hands on him. He’ll want to, given that he’s the son of a Quincy and someone as powerful as Inoue Orihime.”

“Kazui will live at the manor while he’s here,” Rukia said firmly, one hand touching Ichigo’s forearm lightly. “Nii-sama won’t let Kurotsuchi onto the estate; he detests the man.”

Ichigo’s scowl lightened. “He’d let Kazui stay there?”

“If we ask him,” she said quietly, “He’ll say yes.” A look passed between them and Ichigo nodded.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, hand finding hers, as they both ignored the way Urahara watched them with interest.

They were right to consult Urahara: Ishida threw in the towel the next morning. “Onishi-san says I have no options, and that your sisters don’t have any grounds to sue for custody either,” he said bluntly as Ichigo and Rukia once more huddled around Rukia’s denreishinki. “Kazui’s homeroom teacher made another report two days ago, but my contact in the agency says Orihime wouldn’t open the door to a caseworker and they won’t push it.”

“You mean they’ll just let Kazui continue to suffer just because she won’t…open the door?” Ichigo demanded.

“Not exactly. Karakura's agency is understaffed and the caseworker has sixty other families on their list. But the report…” Ishida hesitated.

“Ishida?”

“I think you need to intervene, Kurosaki.”

Rukia covered Ichigo’s hand with hers. “We’ll be in the world of the living in an hour,” she said, and hung up. “I’ll send a message to Nii-sama about the senkaimon. You tell Sentarō that there’s an emergency and that he’s in charge of the division until we get back,” she ordered.

Ichigo took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

They were at the manor in less than twenty minutes. Byakuya was waiting for them, expression blank. “You’re going to retrieve the boy,” he said flatly.

The younger couple exchanged a look. Their control over their bond had strengthened further in the last month, and Ichigo managed to send two words through – _he knows?_ he asked, pushing behind it his intent. _Did Byakuya know about Orihime_ was what he meant. He received a slight nod in return.

“We have to, Nii-sama,” Rukia said, voice just as flat.

Byakuya’s gaze shifted between them. “He cannot stay here permanently,” he said finally. “Even with Urahara’s machines, he is still a living child.”

“I know,” Ichigo told him. “It’s just until we can get Inoue…sorted out.”

“Hn.” But the older man looked oddly sympathetic as he held out his hand, reiatsu limiters in his palm. “I will have a room prepared for the boy here in the manor, near Ichika’s quarters.”

Ichigo and Rukia reached for the limiters and applied them just over their hearts, Ichigo carefully looking away as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks,” he said roughly. Wisely, neither of the Kuchiki siblings remarked on his voice. He hadn’t expected Byakuya to just come out and offer to house Kazui, and he wondered if it was lingering guilt over Rukia, or something else entirely.

“Open the senkaimon,” Byakuya ordered one of the two guards stationed at the gate.

Rukia nodded her thanks, but Ichigo was the first through, and they ran alongside one another through the space between worlds as the gate closed behind them, following the hell butterflies ahead.

Urahara was waiting with gigai when they arrived at his shop a few minutes later. He took one look at them – both grim-faced and tense – and said only, “I’ll be here when you return, Kuchiki-san, Kurosaki-san,” the expression on his face serious and fan nowhere in sight.

It was already late afternoon in the World of the Living; Ichigo and Rukia hurried along under the bright sunlight. Urahara had dressed their gigai in clothing appropriate for the warmth of early summer. Rukia’s lavender dress swung around her knees as she lengthened her strides to keep up with Ichigo, but she stopped as her denreishinki beeped. “Ishida and Tatsuki are waiting for us in the lobby,” Rukia said after checking the message on the screen. They rounded the corner to the apartment building, and she shoved the device back in her purse before taking Ichigo’s hand. “What’s our plan?”

His hand squeezed hers. “Get in, get Kazui, get out.”

“That’s not a plan,” Rukia scoffed. “Maybe I should go up with Tatsuki and Ishida while you wait in the lobby. Orihime…she might react badly to seeing you.”

Ichigo privately thought that his former wife would react poorly to seeing either of them. Ishida wasn’t prone to exaggeration; if he said that Orihime was delusional and thought that her ex-husband was secretly pining for her, the Quincy was probably right. “No,” he said as they reached the doors. “I’m not letting you go up there without me.”

“She’s not exactly a _threat_ ,” Rukia muttered as they walked into lobby. Ishida and Tatsuki were waiting for them, seated on a plush gray loveseat that the building management had tucked into an alcove for visitors.

Ichigo hadn’t seen Tatsuki in months – not since well before he moved to Soul Society – and his old friend stood to greet him. With a punch in the arm. “Ow, what the hell, Tatsuki!”

“That’s for not saying goodbye to me before you moved,” she grumbled, but the nod she gave Rukia was friendly enough. “Good to see you, Kuchiki-san. Orihime doesn’t know we’re here yet - what’s the plan?”

Ichigo glanced at the security guard, then shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his chin towards the elevator. He waited until they had crossed the lobby and were enclosed in the elevator car to speak. “We go inside, tell her that she needs help and that Kazui’s going to live with me for a little while.”

“You’re sure you want to see her?” Rukia asked, a note of worry in her voice.

He wrapped his hand around hers. “I don’t, but maybe if I tell her myself, she’ll…snap out of it,” Ichigo muttered as Tatsuki and Ishida exchanged skeptical looks.

“If it gets heated, we’ll take Kazui downstairs to the playground,” Ishida volunteered. “ _You_ should be the one to ring the doorbell, Kurosaki – she’ll open the door for you.”

Rukia squeezed his hand when she caught his involuntary shudder. “Yeah,” he muttered. And then they were on the ninth floor and in front of Orihime’s door. As Ishida and Tatsuki had done previously, they kept out of sight – as did Rukia – while Ichigo rang the doorbell.

The door swung open. “Ichigo!”

He blinked, nonplussed. Orihime had cut her hair so that it was barely chin-length. The ends were jagged and uneven, as if she’d done the job herself, and her blue flower pins gleamed just above her ears. “Inoue,” he said in greeting, and watched as she flinched at the sound of her family name.

But. “I knew you’d come back!” Orihime cried, and launched herself at him, arms wrapping around him tightly as Ichigo recoiled and then went stiff as a board.

Ishida had told him that she was delusional, but Ichigo hadn’t expected her to fling herself at him. He grabbed for her arms and gently pulled them from around his waist. “We need to talk about Kazui,” he said firmly.

“Tousan!” the boy’s voice came from behind Orihime, and before she could stop him her son wriggled around her and reached for Ichigo.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Ichigo said quietly, and scooped him up. He felt a little too light, and Ichigo’s expression darkened. He _smelled,_ too, of dirty laundry, and his hair was limp against his head. “We need to talk, Inoue,” he said darkly as he settled Kazui at his hip.

“Where are your things?” she asked, as if he wasn’t glaring at her.

“He isn’t _staying_ ,” Tatsuki said from behind them, and pushed her way through. “You cut your hair,” she said disapprovingly as she grabbed Orihime by the arm and guided her into the living room. Ishida followed, leaving Ichigo, Kazui, and Rukia standing in the doorway.

“It’s nice to see you, Kazui-kun,” Rukia said a little awkwardly. She was nearly eye-level with the boy, perched on Ichigo’s hip as he was.

The boy smiled uncertainly at her before shoving his face in Ichigo’s chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ichigo murmured reassuringly, large hand resting against his back. “Rukia’s a friend, remember?” The face buried in his chest moved in a nod. “It’s okay to be shy, but Rukia won’t ever hurt you.”

“Did you really come back to be with Kaasan?” Kazui pulled back a little to look up at him. “She said you were coming back to marry her again.”

Ichigo grimaced and shot a dismayed look at Rukia. “No,” he replied. “I came back because my friends said you needed my help. _You’re_ the reason I came back.” Kazui’s grip tightened on him, and Ichigo swallowed around another lump in his throat as Rukia rested a hand on his arm. “We’d better get inside.”

Rukia went first, leaving her shoes in the genkan – a mistake, Ichigo quickly realized as Orihime shot up from the sofa. “Ichigo, what’s she doing here?” she demanded as he stepped into the living room, Kazui still in his arms. “She’s not – she’s not welcome in our home!”

He sighed and rubbed Kazui’s back lightly. “Rukia is my partner, Orihime,” he said repressively. “And your friend. We’re here because you’ve been having trouble taking care of Kazui properly since I divorced you.”

“There is nothing wrong with Kazui!” she protested.

Rukia’s eyes raked over her. “Kazui’s too skinny, his clothes and hair are dirty, and we’ve been getting reports from Ishida-san and Arisawa-san for _weeks_ that this is an ongoing problem,” she said coolly. “I’m sure you don’t _mean_ to hurt your son, but you have.”

Orihime reared back as if struck. “You’ve been _spying_ on me?”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on Kazui, which you knew, Orihime,” Ishida reminded her. He looked at Kazui, eyes pained. “And it’s clear that you can’t take care of him. You’re not even taking care of yourself.”

“We’re _fine_ ,” Orihime protested again. “Isn’t that right, Kazui-tan?” she asked, voice pitching higher as she spoke to her son. Kazui just buried his face in Ichigo’s chest again.

“You need help,” Ichigo said sternly. “Rukia and I are going to take Kazui with us for a little while so that you can get it without worrying about him. He’ll have a chance to get to know Ichika, and we’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“You and your – _whore_ are not taking Kazui _anywhere_ ,” Orihime shot back.

Ichigo’s jaw clenched and he shot a look at Tatsuki. “Tatsuki, can you take Kazui down to the playground for a few minutes? We need to have a discussion.”

“I want to stay,” Kazui protested, clinging more tightly to him. Ichigo hugged him closer.

“I know. But this is a conversation your Kaasan and I have to have without you. I _promise_ I’ll come down to the playground in a few minutes, okay?” he asked.

Reluctantly, the boy let Ichigo hand him over to Tatsuki, and she and Ishida left the apartment while Orihime stood, tears rolling down her cheeks, in the middle of her living room. “You can’t do that,” she protested. “Kazui is _my_ son.”

“He is,” Ichigo acknowledged. “And you haven’t been taking care of him. You need…therapy or something, Inoue. Or the authorities here will take Kazui away from you and he’ll end up in a guidance center or foster home.”

“But – but with you here everything will be fine again,” she said, voice high and almost childish. “That’s why you came back, isn’t it?”

He just shook his head, fist clenching until Rukia gently touched his forearm. “We’re not getting back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Orihime, but our marriage was empty. I just pretended to be happy for seven years and so did you.”

She sank back down onto the sofa, arms wrapped around herself as she cried in earnest. “None of this would have happened if you – if you hadn’t come to Karakura,” she told Rukia, whose gaze was filled with pity. “You – you lured him away again to that awful place. You’re nothing but a _whore_.” 

“ _Don’t_ call Rukia that again,” Ichigo demanded, voice a low snarl. “ _You_ cheated on _me_ and lied to me so that I would marry you. You lied to me for _seven years_ , and Rukia had nothing to do with any of it. Rukia and me – we didn’t even _kiss_ until after we’d both been divorced.”

But Orihime wasn’t listening. Her fingertips came up to her hairpins and she chanted, “Tsubaki, koten zanshun, I reject!”

Ichigo’s jaw slackened in shock, but Rukia calmly stepped forward, hand glowing with kido, and batted the fairy away with her bare hand. Tsubaki flew backwards, smashing into the far wall and sliding down against it, dazed. “You _don’t_ want to attack me, Orihime,” she said flatly. “I am not the source of your sorrow, and even in gigai I am much stronger than you.” Her other hand rested on Ichigo’s arm, keeping him in place.

“Tsuba—” She stopped, voice muffled by Rukia’s hand clapping over her mouth – she’d been so fast to move that Ichigo barely realized she’d stepped away from him.

“I’m _sorry_ for your pain, Orihime,” Rukia said, voice low. “But I can’t allow you to try and hurt either of us. You’re sick, and you need help. And until you get that help, Ichigo and I are going to take care of Kazui. Ishida will help you find a counselor, and Arisawa-san will be here for you however she can.”

When she took her hand from Orihime’s mouth the other woman started sobbing again, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and arms wrapping around herself again, this time over her stomach as if it ached. “You can’t take my son from me,” she got out, voice breaking up in between her sobs. Her breaths came in huge gasps that shrieked through her throat. “You _can’t_ , I won’t let you.”

Ichigo just shook his head. “We have to do what’s best for _Kazui_ ,” he reminded her, voice raised over the sound of her sobbing. “Ishida, Tatsuki, and Matsumoto-san needed to unpack for you even though you’d been here for _weeks_. They did laundry because you wouldn’t and bought food because you were letting Kazui fend for himself in an empty kitchen. His homeroom teacher reported you _three times_.”

“You need help,” Rukia said again. “And when you get it, Kazui can come back. But you’re neglecting him because of your own pain, and that’s not fair to him.”

“I’ll – I’ll call the police!” Orihime threatened, and Ichigo snorted.

“And tell them that your shinigami ex-husband took your son to another world? I’m not doing this to hurt you, I’m doing this to protect Kazui.” Then he jerked his head at Rukia. “Come on, Rukia,” he requested, voice gentle again. “I want to stop by my sisters’ place before we go home. They haven’t seen their nephew since I left.”

Rukia straightened up and crossed the living room to stand by her partner. “I really do hope you’ll get better, Orihime,” she said – and as the younger woman continued to sob, they put on their shoes and left the apartment.

They took the elevator down to the lobby and together they walked to the doorway that led out to the building’s playground. It was a cheerful space, with manicured grass and a huge, blue and green playset with slides, swings, and even a set of monkey bars. Kazui was just coming down the slide when they stepped onto the lawn, and he ran to Ichigo once more.

There were a few other families outside, and Ichigo tried to ignore their eyes on him as he scooped the boy up once more and let him rest on one hip. “Ready to go?” he asked. Tatsuki and Ishida followed him. “Do you want anything from upstairs, Kazui?”

“No,” he said quietly, and buried his face in Ichigo’s shoulder. Rukia pressed a sympathetic hand to his back as Ichigo huffed out a breath.

“We’re going to see Karin oba-san and Yuzu oba-san before we go to my home, okay?” Ichigo asked. He got a nod against his cobalt blue shirt in reply. “Ishida, Tatsuki, will you stay with Inoue? She took it poorly.”

Ishida scowled. “My shift starts in less than an hour. Tatsuki?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on her,” she agreed, and scowled. “Assuming she’ll let me back in her apartment.”

They walked back inside together, nodding goodbye to Tatsuki as she took the elevator back upstairs, and parted ways with Ishida as he turned toward the hospital.

“Where’s home?” Kazui asked when they were on the sidewalk, headed for Yuzu and Karin’s apartment. He still hadn’t let go of Ichigo, although every so often he lifted his head to look at Rukia, walking alongside them with her dark hair swinging in the warm breeze.

Ichigo glanced around, but the only other person nearby was an older woman across the street. “Do you remember when I went through that weird doorway in Urahara’s shop?” he asked. When Kazui nodded, he explained, “Home is a place called Soul Society that you can only get to through doors like that. It’s really different from Karakura, but some parts of it are nice. You’ll see it in a little while, after we visit Yuzu and Karin.”

Rukia was busy typing into her denreishinki again. “Tatsuki was able to get Orihime to let her back inside,” she reported.

“Hn. Good,” he muttered.

“Are Karin oba-san and Yuzu oba-san going to come with us to Soul Society?” Kazui asked. He squirmed a little in Ichigo’s arms. “Down, please.”

Ichigo stopped and bent down so that Kazui could more easily climb down before he answered. “They’re not going to come with us right now, no,” he said, keeping one hand wrapped around Kazui’s. “They both have jobs here as nurses. But Karin sometimes visits Soul Society because she has friends there.” He didn’t need to know, yet, about Karin and Hitsugaya.

“Am I going to stay in Soul Society for forever?” was the next question. Ichigo exchanged a look with Rukia.

“Not forever, but for a little while. Inoue-san is sick and we’re going to take care of you while she works to get better,” Rukia said, voice cheerful. “You’ll be able to spend time getting to know Ichika a bit more.”

“What about school?”

“Well, Ichika has a tutor,” Ichigo said after Rukia gave him a slight nod. “She’s a little older than you, but her tutor might be willing to work with you as well. Otherwise, I’ll hire a different tutor for you so that you don’t fall behind on your lessons.” Ichigo remembered what Kazui had been learning a couple of months ago; sure, Soul Society operated like it was hundreds of years behind the living world, but he could probably find _someone_ with a more modern set of knowledge. Maybe someone from the Twelfth Division, if he could go around Kurotsuchi…

“Are you going to marry Kuchiki-san?” Kazui asked suddenly, making both Ichigo and Rukia’s cheeks flush pink. “Is Ichika going to be my sis—” Then he stopped and bit his lip.

“Aa. I’d like that very much,” Ichigo finally said. He realized that Kazui still had no idea that Ichika was Ichigo’s daughter – but the sidewalk was hardly the place to have that conversation. He just reached down and squeezed Kazui’s shoulder lightly, until the boy looked up at him. “I still want to be your father, remember? So, if Rukia agrees to marry me someday, yeah, Ichika will be your sister.”

“Does that mean I have to call Rukia-san Kaasan?” His voice was so small that both Rukia and Ichigo stopped in their tracks.

“Aa…”

Rukia rolled her eyes at him and knelt down next to Kazui so that she was eye level with him. “I don’t want to take Orihime’s place,” she said gently. “But I’d like us to be friends.”

He gave a little nod, and glanced back up at his father. “Okay,” he said, and when Rukia stood up again he took her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the chapter count for this work (previously at a very informative "?"). As I shared on Tumblr, I've done some re-plotting and revision and believe that this story will be 29 chapters plus an epilogue. Assuming all goes well, I'll be wrapping up toward the end of April, just in time for IchiRuki Week in the Seireitei server.


	21. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo sees his sisters for the first time in months, and they have some news for the family.

Kazui may have wanted to get to Karin and Yuzu’s apartment building on his own two feet, but when he began to grow tired and his footsteps dragged, Ichigo picked him up once more and carried him piggyback, just like he used to. The ginger-haired boy was half-asleep on his back by the time the three of them arrived at the modest stucco apartment building not far from the former Kurosaki clinic. Ichigo checked his watch; his sisters were almost certainly home for the day.

Rukia held the door open as Ichigo kept ahold of Kazui, and a security guard nodded politely from the desk to one side of the lobby.

“Who are you visiting this afternoon?” he asked diffidently.

“Ah – Kurosaki Yuzu and Kurosaki Karin,” Ichigo said.

“And your name?”

“Kurosaki Ichigo. I’m their brother.”

“Ah.” The guard tapped a few keys and reviewed something on his computer screen. “Yes, you’re on the approved visitors list. And the young lady with you?”

“Kuchiki Rukia,” she murmured.

The mouse wheel clicked under the guard’s fingers, and he nodded firmly. “Yes, of course Kuchiki-san. Have a nice day.”

Ichigo followed Rukia to the elevator, and they waited, Kazui still half-asleep, for the doors to open. “I didn’t think they’d add me to the _approved visitors_ list,” Rukia said quietly.

He just smiled down at her, dark amber eyes soft. “Why not? Yuzu and Karin always liked you. And – they’ve known about us for months.” A high-pitched bell rang and the doors opened. They stepped into the elevator. “They’re on the fifth floor, Five C.”

Rukia hit the appropriate button on the panel, and the stainless steel-clad car whisked them up the five flights. “I just thought – they’ve had to change so _much_ since everything happened.” She yelped when Ichigo lightly hip-checked her.

“Stop that,” he grumbled. “It’s _good_ that they have their own place. It was—” Ichigo cleared his throat. He didn’t want Kazui to hear him speak badly of Orihime, and conscious of the weight of his back, he just said again, “It’s a good thing.”

“Hn.” The elevator door opened and Rukia stepped out first, glancing at the directional sign on the wall opposite. The carpeted hallway was empty and their footfalls were muffled by the thick padding beneath them. “This seems like a nice building,” she said quietly. The exterior of the building had been plain stucco, but the walls looked clean and freshly painted, and the hall was well-lit.

“Yeah, we looked at a lot of apartments before they signed the lease. I didn’t want them to live somewhere unsafe.”

Rukia pushed the plain white doorbell on the door of 5C, and a chime echoed through the closed door in front of them. Kazui stirred against Ichigo’s back and squirmed until Ichigo crouched to let him get down as either Yuzu or Karin unbolted the door.

“Ichi-nii!” Yuzu exclaimed and threw herself at her brother. His arms came up around her in reflex, and they hugged for a long moment before Ichigo drew back and ruffled his sister’s hair. She threw herself at Rukia next, and the older woman stiffened with shock before her expression softened and she hugged her in return. “I’m so glad you’re here, Rukia-nee! And Kazui-kun!” But Yuzu’s expression faltered at the sight of her nephew before she gathered him into a hug as well.

“Can we come inside?” Ichigo asked, and Yuzu nodded firmly.

“You’ll stay for dinner, right?” she asked as she pulled Kazui into the apartment with her. He toed his shoes off as Ichigo and Rukia did the same, leaving their footwear in a neat line as Yuzu shut and locked the door. “Karin, guess who stopped by for a visit?” she called.

Kazui hung close to his father shyly as they followed Yuzu into the living room. They’d clearly used some of the proceeds from the sale of the clinic to decorate: a new-looking sofa covered in pale blue microfiber took up a good portion of the space, and there was a new flat-screen television against the opposite wall. The coffee table was a large rectangle, lacquered white and with discreet hinges on both sides. They’d put some art up as well, and Ichigo smiled, blinking back the sudden dampness in his eyes, at the portrait of his mother and father that took up part of the far wall. It wasn’t anything like the poster his father used to keep around; Ichigo guessed that Yuzu had probably had it painted from a photo.

“Ichi-nii!” Karin stood from her place on the sofa and offered her brother a hug. He ruffled her hair and let go of her so that she could hug Kazui and then Rukia; like her twin, she gave Ichigo a significant look when she straightened up from hugging her nephew. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Yeah, it was an emergency visit,” Ichigo said. But he dug into his pocket and offered her a package. “Toshiro sent this.” His sister grabbed for it and it was obvious that she was trying not to look too eager to open the paper-wrapped rectangle.

“An emergency. Was it a hollow?” Yuzu asked from behind them.

“Ah. No,” Rukia said, and at Yuzu’s gesture she perched on the sofa. Kazui immediately climbed onto the cushions next to her, and she offered him a little smile. “Kazui’s going to come stay with us for a little while.”

Ichigo’s sisters – both registered nurses, and both of them with a decade of experience helping their father in the clinic – exchanged a look. “That sounds like fun!” Yuzu chirped, smiling so widely that her eyes shut. “You’ll have fun there, I think, Kazui-kun. And I’m sure Ichika-chan will be happy to see you.”

Rukia’s lips curved in an answering smile. “She will,” she agreed, and when Kazui inched closer she hesitantly slid an arm around him. He leaned into her, and she relaxed. But she felt the anxiety practically pouring off of Ichigo as she did it, and met his eyes. _Sorry,_ she pushed through the bond, but he only gave a minute shake of his head.

 _Not you_ , came back to her.

“We can’t really stay for dinner,” Ichigo finally said. “We’re supposed to be back at Urahara’s in an hour.”

“Hmph. They should have given you more time,” Yuzu complained, but she sat down next to Kazui and ruffled his hair. “But I’ll take what time I can get with Kazui-kun, right?” she said, and the boy squirmed until Rukia let him go so that he could climb into Yuzu’s lap instead. Ichigo and Rukia both caught the stricken look that crossed her face, but she covered it up.

“My certification program’s been done for a couple of months now,” Karin said suddenly as she perched in an armchair cattycorner to the sofa. Ichigo sat down on the ottoman that matched it and raised an eyebrow at her.

“That’s good,” he said. “Did Sasaki give you a raise afterwards?”

“He did, but I’m thinking about making a change,” she said reluctantly. Toshiro’s package was still in her hands and she rubbed a hand over it absently. “Nursing was just kind of something I fell into, you know?”

“What are you thinking of going into, Karin?” Rukia asked curiously. She sat up straighter as Ichigo shot her a questioning look. Kazui was already falling asleep again on Yuzu’s lap, head resting on her shoulder. It was a little worrisome, but Rukia thought _to Fourth_ , at Ichigo – they’d have Isane and Kiyone take a look at him when they got back to the Seireitei.

“Well – I was kind of thinking I wanted to go into the other family business,” Karin muttered, cheeks a suspiciously pink color.

“You want to become a shinigami?” Rukia asked. But it wasn’t exactly shocking. She’d apparently kept up a long-distance relationship with Hitsugaya for _years_.

“Maybe a substitute,” Karin agreed. “That weirdo in the striped hat helped me figure things out a while back, and the guy assigned to Karakura isn’t very good.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “Rukia replaced Afro-san years ago,” he said. “Didn’t you.”

The shinigami captain hummed under her breath. “I did, but no one likes the Karakura posting,” Rukia pointed out. “Even when—” she huffed out a breath. “Even when you stopped being a substitute, Ishida intervened, and so did Chad until he became a boxer. Anyone assigned to the post complains.”

Yuzu frowned at her sister. “But why would you be a substitute?” Her voice took on a teasing note as she asked, “Don’t you want to be with Toshiro?” When Karin’s cheeks turned even redder she grinned. “I knew it! Can’t she be like you, Ichi-nii, and be a shinigami full time?”

“But – but then it’ll just be you in Karakura,” Karin protested. “And it’s not like that between me and Toshiro, we’re just…”

Ichigo snorted. “Don’t lie, Karin. He practically asked for my blessing when I handed him your gift a few months ago.”

“And the longer you stay _here_ , the older you’ll get, and he won’t,” Yuzu said, face set in a little pout. “You should go, if Soul Society will let you.”

“Will it?” Ichigo asked Rukia. The ottoman was opposite her seat on the sofa and he nudged his ankle against hers gently.

She just shrugged. “They might, for a member of the Shiba clan and your sister.” And if they didn’t, there was always, well – the usual way souls arrived in Soul Society, Rukia thought. But she wasn’t about to suggest _that_ , here in front of his family.

“But I don’t want to leave Yuzu alone here,” Karin said plaintively. Her sister just smiled, though, and rubbed a hand lightly along Kazui’s back.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she said quietly, “because I didn’t want to leave _you_ alone, but – I really want to travel, Karin. We’ve never been further from home than Hokkaido, you know.” As her siblings stared at her, she added shyly, “I applied for a traveling nurse service a few months ago. They place you in countries with a shortage of nurses.”

Ichigo’s ankle bumped against Rukia’s again, and she pressed against it lightly. “That sounds like an interesting program, Yuzu,” she agreed.

“It is! And last week they called me and told me I’d been accepted! The first posting is for a year, and if I take their offer I’ll be going to Australia,” Yuzu said brightly, though both Rukia and Ichigo caught the nervous look in her eyes and the way her hands shook slightly.

“ _Australia?_ ” Karin repeated.

“Yes! My English is good enough for the work I’ll be doing, and I’ll get paid just like I do here. I think they pay _more_ , actually, because I have to agree to stay for a full year. But I’ll get to see Australia and New Zealand, and maybe other places too!” Yuzu’s brown eyes, much like her brother’s, were wide in her face as she looked at them. “It’s something I _really_ want to do, I just – was afraid to tell you,” she finished.

“You’re sure this is what you want to do?” Ichigo asked finally. He shared a look with Rukia and some of the sudden tension left his shoulders when she pushed a hint of _reassurance_ through their bond. It was funny, the red thread didn’t seem to care that they were both in gigai and using reiatsu limiters besides. When Yuzu opened her mouth to protest he hurried to say, “Only, a year’s a long time, Yuzu.”

She just smiled. “It’s not really that long,” she said. “But now you don’t have to keep dancing around whether you want to be with Toshiro, Karin,” she teased. “I’ll be safe in Australia. And maybe you can even come visit! I don’t know how Soul Society works, but there has to be a way to get to Australia from there. They have souls too.”

Rukia hummed under her breath. “They do,” she allowed. “Their world is called the Land of the Dead, and there are different paths to it, across the waters. I met one of their people, once.” But when Ichigo looked at her curiously, she shook her head. “It’s hard to explain. They are not shinigami, but they _are_ guides. I believe we have a treaty of sorts.”

“Hn. There’s probably psychopomps in every country, I guess,” Ichigo muttered. And then he looked at Karin. “You’re sure about this? Moving to Soul Society, I mean.”

His younger sister huffed. “I didn’t ask you that when you decided to move,” she pointed out. Her hands clutched at the fabric of her trousers, though.

It was Kazui, though, who spoke up, rousing himself a little. “Tousan and Kuchiki-san are s’posed to be together,” he said drowsily, head still resting on Yuzu’s chest. “There’s a red thread like in the stories.”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed as Yuzu and Karin looked from her to Ichigo, grins on both of their faces. “When are you thinking of…moving, Karin?” she asked.

“After Yuzu goes to Australia, maybe,” Karin said with a shrug. “But I have to get that weirdo Urahara to help me, right? If I want to be able to uh – visit?”

“There’s no _way_ I’m letting you do what I had to in order to gain my powers,” Ichigo snapped.

Rukia’s ankle pressed against his again. “We’ll figure something out,” she said reassuringly.

* * *

Kazui insisted on Rukia giving him a piggyback ride back to Urahara’s shop, and she lifted him onto her back easily. Ichigo walked alongside them quietly, something twisting in his heart at the sight. He wished – but wishing was useless, and Ichigo had already gotten so much more than he’d hoped for when Zangetsu broke into Soul Society. When Kazui looked back at him he took a breath and smiled.

A howl split the air, suddenly, and Ichigo and Rukia both stiffened. Kazui looked around curiously. The shinigami on duty can get that, right?” Ichigo asked, but there was another howl, and a shrill scream behind it. “Sh—”

Rukia scrambled for her denreishinki while holding onto Kazui. “It’s a big one,” she said when she tapped the screen and an image appeared. “There are two more across town – that’s probably where Kitagawa is.”

“Three at once?” Ichigo asked, but he was already looking around for somewhere to stash his gigai.

“ _I’ll_ go. Protect Kazui,” Rukia ordered as she crouched. “Kazui-kun, I need to take care of something.”

“Is it that angry noise?” the boy asked as he obediently climbed down.

“Rukia, I should—” But their eyes met and Ichigo nodded, mouth set in a grim line. “Be safe,” he said, and caught her gigai when she erupted from it, white haori billowing around her. The hollow came into view in the same instant, and Ichigo looped an arm around Kazui and the other around Rukia’s gigai.

The hollow was huge, but at least it wasn’t a gillian, Ichigo thought as he watched the creature rear back and roar. Its body towered over the residential area, muscular and gray with darker stripes along its arms and legs. Its head was covered by an enormous white mask, shaped oddly like a starburst with a huge, distorted mouth and eyes that gleamed red in the open sockets.

Unfettered by a gigai or the pretense of being human, Rukia flew through the air with her zanpakutō already unsheathed. “Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!” she called, and the blade gleamed white under the later-afternoon sun as a sparkling ribbon spilled from its hilt.

“ _That’s_ Kuchiki-san?” Kazui asked, gray eyes wide as he stared.

 _Well that answered the question of how strong Kazui’s powers are_ , Ichigo thought. He kept a tight hold on his son. It was just a normal hollow, and Rukia was a captain. She’d be able to handle it easily without him, he told himself.

 **Snow lady’s got her back.** **You worry too much,** Zangetsu sneered. But there was the slightest hint of anxiety in _him_ , too, and Ichigo couldn’t help a smirk in response.

 _Yeah, yeah. I know you’re nervous about not being able to back up Sode no Shirayuki._ Inside him, Zangetsu grumbled but didn’t deny it.

The hollow swiped an enormous, clawed hand at Rukia that she dodged effortlessly. “Some no mai, tsukishiro!” she called, zanpakutō spinning in a slow circle. The air chilled and the scent of snow wafted past him as a pillar of white shot into the sky, solidifying into ice around the hollow. The creature shattered into a million pieces as Rukia landed atop a nearby building, blade gleaming.

“That looked so cool!” Kazui shouted from under Ichigo’s arm and wriggled until his father put him back down. “What was that weird monster thing though? Do you fight them too, Tousan?”

“Ah – they’re called hollows,” Ichigo said, but he was watching as another hollow emerged into the visible world, and another. He swallowed down a curse as Rukia’s voice called her second dance and sent a wave of ice at the second hollow, then leapt out of range of the third. With her uniform flowing around her she looked like she was floating rather than falling, and she landed gracefully before atop the roof of a single-family home. “They’re corrupted souls, and part of my job – and Rukia’s job – is to purify them so that they’re no longer a danger.”

A third hollow emerged and Ichigo swore, out loud this time.

“Kaasan doesn’t like hearing words like that,” Kazui said, but his gaze, like Ichigo’s, was focused on Rukia and the three hollows she was fighting. Make that five – where the hell were they all coming from?

Where the hell was the shinigami who was _stationed_ in Karakura? Ichigo spotted a bench and grabbed Kazui up, setting both him and the gigai on the wooden surface before digging in Rukia’s purse – and blessed her for being more prepared than him. She had a Chappy dispenser. He dispensed the little green gikongan and shoved it in the mouth of Rukia’s gigai.

“Pyon!”

He _hated_ Chappy. But. “This is Kazui. I need you to protect him. _Don’t_ hurt him,” Ichigo ordered. He dispensed with his own gigai as Kazui watched. “Don’t hurt my gigai, either. Kazui, Chappy will keep you safe until Rukia and I finish these guys off.” He reached behind his back and grabbed for the larger of Zangetsu’s two blades.

“Your sword is really big,” his son said, eyes big as dinner plates.

Ichigo managed a laugh. “Stay here,” he commanded, and leapt into the air after Rukia, the other hand grabbing for the oversized knife at his side. He had one blade buried in a hollow mask almost immediately, and waited only until he was sure it was dissolving to join Rukia.

“What did you do with Kazui?” Rukia shouted. Ichigo _knew_ in the next second what she was about to do, even before she raised her hand, and jumped out of the way as she blasted an insect-like hollow with a bright blue flare of kido, sending it flailing backwards.

“Chappy’s watching him and my gigai,” Ichigo reported. “And I’m kicking Kitagawa’s ass after this. Where is he?”

“I’d like to know the same thing.” Rukia moved as Ichigo shot off a getsuga tenshō that destroyed another of the hollows, and Rukia’s tsukishiro took out a fourth.

Unfortunately, the other two were smarter and more powerful. Ichigo dropped back into a defensive position as the two hollows regrouped. The first lumbered on all fours, white mask oddly _benign_ looking; it reminded him of a capybara, something he’d only seen in a zoo. The other, taller and humanoid, shot a tentacle out that Ichigo sliced off before it could reach Rukia, making the corrupted soul screech so that they both had to resist the urge to cover their ears.

They didn’t look all that threatening, but both gave Ichigo and Rukia a run for their money with their reiatsu limiters in place; it turned out that the capybara-like hollow spat acid and the other hollow had an _endless_ supply of tentacles eager to grasp and trip them up. They were smart enough to work together, trying to separate the two shinigami.

 _“The boy,”_ the humanoid hollow said suddenly, a grin cracking open its heavy teeth. Almost too late Ichigo realized they’d been herded closer to the bench down below where Kazui, Chappy, and Ichigo’s body waited.

Rukia blocked the tentacle shot out by the hollow, grunting as it batted her away before she could cut it off. “Rukia!” Ichigo screamed as she fell. He put on a burst of speed and caught her in mid-air just feet from Kazui.

She was just stunned, and as Ichigo came to a stop Rukia shook it off. They exchanged a look. _Hakuren and tensh_ _ō,_ Rukia thought as he set her down in mid-air. Beside him, Ichigo inclined his head. “Tsugi no mai,” she intoned, zanpakutō piercing the very air and voice low and calm as Ichigo batted away the acid that the capybara-hollow spat at them, “ _Hakuren!”_

“Getsuga tenshō,” Ichigo roared as she finished. Their combined power roared at the two hollows, waves of white ice combining with the red-edged black of Ichigo’s attack, and obliterated both with a flash so bright that they had to shield their eyes. Rukia grabbed for her denreishinki as Ichigo dropped down to the bench.

“Are you hurt?” he asked Kazui, but the boy just stared open-mouthed. “Kaz.”

The ginger-haired boy shook himself. “That was _awesome_!” he shouted. “Do you and Kuchiki-san do that all the time? You guys look so cool flying around like that!”

Ichigo laughed, a little embarrassed by Kazui’s enthusiasm. “Ah – yeah, it’s part of our jobs,” he said again.

Rukia landed next to him, zanpakutō already sealed. “I don’t see any others,” she reported. “And Kitagawa must have dealt with the two across town.”

“How come Kuchiki-san’s sword is white and yours is black?” Kazui asked as Ichigo slung one sword onto his back and set the other at his side. “Why do you have two?”

Ichigo and Rukia exchanged another look. “We should get back to Urahara’s,” Ichigo said. Kazui opened his mouth to object. “I promise we’ll answer your questions when we get to Soul Society, okay?”

“Okay,” the boy mumbled. He watched as Ichigo settled himself back in his gigai and Rukia did the same, placing the gikongan back into its dispenser. “You can just get in and out of your bodies like that? What would happen if you switched bodies?”

“Rukia would probably trip over my legs at the shock of being twice as tall as she usually is.” Ichigo grunted when Rukia elbowed him in the side, cheeks just a little flushed.

“It’s generally not a good idea,” she said flatly. “Now let’s go – we’re late.”

“What’s Chappy?” Kazui asked. Ichigo took his hand and grimaced at the question.

“Oh! Chappy’s a wonderful bunny,” Rukia started enthusiastically as they resumed their walk.

Urahara was waiting for them, and he looked at Kazui from behind his fan, saying only, “I hope you’ll have a nice visit to Soul Society, Kazui-tan,” before ushering them to his senkaimon.

Ichigo and Rukia divested themselves of their gigai as Kazui watched, looking between their false bodies and their spirits a little uneasily. “Do you just abandon your bodies like that all the time?”

“They’re gigai, fake bodies,” Urahara explained as Tessai picked up first one and then the other to prepare them for storage. “Without them, most people wouldn’t be able to see Kuchiki-san or Kurosaki-san when they’re here in Karakura.”

Kazui blinked up at him. “Is that why there wasn’t any running or screaming while Tousan was swinging his sword around?”

Urahara fluttered his fan. “Yes! You inher—” He stopped. “You also have some power, so you’re able to see them. Now,” he said, “In order for _you_ to get to Soul Society, since you _can’t_ separate from your body, I’m going to have to use a special device on you.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked. Ichigo’s hand fell on Kazui’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Not at all! The Reishi Hankan-Ki is completely painless. Though you might feel a slight tingling,” Urahara allowed. He glanced at Rukia and then Ichigo. “Shall we begin?”

Ichigo just took a deep breath and tried to relax the space between his eyebrows. Rukia looked as guilty as he felt, and he could hear Shirayuki gently berating her for that guilt. “We’re using the Kuchiki senkaimon to get back,” he said.

“Ahh. Of course, of course.” Urahara hummed under his breath. When Tessai returned from storing away their gigai, Urahara tapped his cane on the floor again. “Kuchiki-san, if you are ready?”

A hell butterfly landed on Rukia’s outstretched fingertip. “I am,” she agreed.

“Very well.” Urahara and Tessai knelt, and slowly their senkaimon and conversion device began to charge.

Ichigo was brought back suddenly to the moment he’d first seen this device, the moment when as a sixteen-year-old boy he’d put his hand to his zanpakutō and leapt into the dangai, head and heart both determined to save Rukia. Without really meaning to, his hand found her free one and she twined their fingers together and squeezed. She knew, of course, without him saying a word.

“Come back and visit soon,” Urahara said, and fluttered his fan in farewell as the gate opened.

Ichigo scooped Kazui up with one arm. “ _Don’t_ touch anything, and hold on tight,” he commanded. Kazui obediently clung to his father’s neck. Rukia let loose the butterfly and they dived in, running through the space between worlds. They ran alongside one another, sticking close. There was no sign of the cleaner, but they hurried through just the same and leapt together through the glowing doorway at the other end of the dark tunnel.

Ichigo nearly fell on his face as he skidded to a stop; Rukia, of course, landed with perfect grace.

“You are late.” Ichigo huffed out a breath at the sight of Byakuya – but Ichika was behind him, and she grabbed for her mother enthusiastically.

“Oh, Kazui’s here!” she said, and Rukia’s arms loosened. Ichika’s hair had been getting progressively lighter, and nearly a year after Ichibei’s interference had stopped, only the lowest few inches of her hair still bore the old crimson color.

Ichigo glanced at Rukia. Ichika and Kazui didn’t actually _know_ about each other, yet. He bent to let his son climb down. “He’s going to be staying here for a little while,” the shinigami lieutenant explained as his daughter and Kazui looked at one another.

“Your hair’s different,” Kazui said bluntly.

Ichika scowled, looking so much like Ichigo in that moment that Rukia had to cover her mouth to suppress a laugh. But then: “I hate it,” she snapped. “It was supposed to be red, like Tousan’s, and now it’s _orange_!”

“Ichika!” Rukia frowned at her daughter as Byakuya watched impassively.

Ichigo’s heart twisted in his chest. His daughter hated having his hair color. What must she think of him? He’d abandoned her pregnant mother, and then _her_ , for years, only to drop a bombshell on her and go back to the World of the Living to deal with Orihime, and –

Rukia’s hand found his at the same time as Zangetsu grumbled loudly, **for the last fuckin’ time, none of that is your fault. And if you make it rain in here and ruin the garden Shirayuki’s going to be pissed.** The absurdity of Rukia’s zanpakutō being angry over a garden in his inner world startled him out of the spiral of self-loathing he’d been going down.

“I like it,” Kazui said quietly, and ignored Ichika’s glare in response. “It looks like Tousan’s, and he has nice hair now that it’s longer.”

He actually flushed a little and reached up to run a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it in nearly a year, and it was getting too long in the back and starting to fall into his eyes. It felt better, though, than the crewcut-like style he’d let Orihime talk him into.

Her mouth opened to say something else, but then Ichika huffed instead. “Ichigo does have nice hair,” she admitted.

Rukia let go of Ichigo’s hand and took Kazui’s instead. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying,” she said, changing the subject, and glanced at Byakuya.

“His rooms are next to Ichika’s,” Byakuya said calmly. He shot Ichigo a meaningful look.

“Go on ahead,” Ichigo said when he caught it. “I’ll follow in a minute.” And he watched Rukia lead their daughter and his son ( _not his son but still his son_ ) away.

At Byakuya’s gesture Ichigo followed him, until they were out of earshot of the guards. “The boy isn’t yours,” he said bluntly, but not unkindly. “I am aware that the Inoue girl is unwell, but I was not aware that the boy is a Quincy.”

Ichigo’s gaze was steady as he looked at Byakuya. He’d been an enemy, once, and then a grudging comrade. And now – he rolled shoulders to push the tension from them. “He’s mine, even if he’s not my blood. Just like Rukia’s no less your sister. She was neglecting him, and Ishida doesn’t have any standing, legally.”

“The Quincy is the father, then.” Byakuya looked away from Ichigo, then, across the courtyard at the sight of Rukia leading both children along the engawa. Kazui’s voice carried, asking about Ichika’s zanpakutō. “I will need to adjust the manor’s security.”

Ichigo blinked. “Ah – what?”

“If Kurotsuchi gets wind of the boy’s presence he will try to study him. The boy will be under the protection of my clan while he is here,” Byakuya said calmly.

“Thanks, Byakuya,” Ichigo said quietly. “We got held up by a hollow attack,” he said then. “There were six of them – big ones.”

Byakuya’s eyebrow twitched. “I see. I assume you’ll be reporting this.”

“Yeah. Seemed weird, that many showing up at once.”

“Hn.” Byakuya glanced at him again. “Abarai has been in Hueco Mundo for several months now. His squad should have been thinning out the hollow population.”

“How long has it been since you heard from him?” he asked.

“Two months.”

Ichigo swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	22. Blood and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Kuchiki Manor, Kazui begins to settle in while Ichigo and his daughter have a long talk.
> 
> In Hueco Mundo, things are not going well for Renji.

Rukia ushered Kazui into a large guest room two doors away from Ichika’s rooms, and the boy looked around the almost completely empty space with ill-concealed disappointment on his face. Rukia didn’t blame him; fusuma against one wall concealed storage space where she knew the futon was being kept, and there was a small pot on the shallow wooden windowsill with a tiny bonsai growing out of it, but otherwise the room was a blank slate with tatami mats on the floor and not much else.

“We’ll have to get you some things tomorrow to make this feel more like home,” she said gently as Ichika bounded into the room from behind them. “But for now, there’s a futon in here,” the shinigami explained and tapped one of the fusuma, “that you’ll sleep on for tonight. And I’m sure that Ichika will be willing to loan you some of her books. Right, Ichika?”

Her daughter huffed but smiled down at Kazui when he looked at her hopefully. “Yeah, I have lots of books you can borrow and there are toys, too.”

“Do you have Pokémon?” he asked. His hands fisted in his shirt and he looked at it, grubby and stained as it was, then at Rukia in her shihakusho and white haori and Ichika in her own, smaller version of Rukia’s hakama and kosode. “Do I need to start…dressing like that here?”

Ichika blinked at him. “What’s Pokémon?” she asked. “And this is a shinigami uniform, dummy, you don’t—”

“Ichika!” Rukia interrupted sharply, “What have I told you about calling people names?”

Her daughter just snorted. “You call Tousan names,” she pointed out. “And I’ve heard you call Ichigo an _idiot_.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her zanpakutō. “But I guess I shouldn’t call you that since you don’t live here and wouldn’t know,” she muttered to Kazui as a sort of apology.

He scrubbed at his shirt again. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“Anyway, you don’t have to wear it unless you’re a shinigami or an apprentice like me. But you’ll stick out in that stuff,” Ichika continued.

“Hn. Yes, we’ll get you some things that fit,” Rukia said thoughtfully. She stiffened suddenly at the wave of anxiety she felt coming from Ichigo, the feeling along their bond tainted with guilt. Before she could ask him about it, she felt him coming closer, and soon enough his footsteps echoed along the engawa and he stepped into the room.

“Hey. Getting settled in?” he asked and rested a hand on Kazui’s shoulder. He looked down at Ichika and Rukia felt another trickle of guilt from him.

“Abarai-chan doesn’t know what Pokémon is,” Kazui reported, clearly puzzled, “and Kuchiki-san says I need new clothes.”

“The Seireitei doesn’t really have much in the way of electronics—" Ichigo started to explain.

“It’s _Kuchiki-chan,_ ” Ichika grumbled sullenly, interrupting him, and glared at her mother. “Kaasan says I can’t use _Abarai_ anymore.”

Ichigo’s brows furrowed and he glanced at Rukia, who looked away from him. “Sometimes names do change,” he said slowly.

Kazui nodded in agreement with his father. “I have to go by _Inoue Kazui_ now,” he said, and glanced up when Ichigo’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Cause Tousan and Kaasan got divorced.”

The young shinigami huffed again and crossed her arms. “Well, ‘least he’s still _yours_. _She_ ,” and Ichika jerked her chin at Rukia, “told me that Ichigo’s my father.”

“What?” Kazui looked up at Ichigo, mouth slightly open.

Rukia suppressed a groan and saw Ichigo do the same. They hadn’t actually told Kazui about that yet, and Ichika had clearly not inherited Rukia’s sense of discretion. “We were planning to tell you, Kazui-kun,” she said, keeping her voice as gentle as she could. “But Ichika is my daughter with Ichigo.”

“You – what about Kaasan?” Kazui demanded and pulled back from Ichigo. “You said she _lied_ to you about me, but you had Ichika the whole time? Did you lie, too?”

Ichigo scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s – more complicated than that,” he finally said, and crouched so that he could be at Kazui’s level. “I didn’t lie,” he said firmly. “I didn’t know until last year that Ichika is my daughter, and Rukia and I never betrayed your mother.” He looked over at Ichika, whose eyes were lowered. “Ichika was already born before I even started dating Inoue. We only told her late last year, just before I told you about…everything.”

His daughter huffed again. “Why’d you have to tell anyone?” she demanded suddenly. “You chased Tousan away and he’s been gone for _months_ now and Oji-sama won’t even tell me where he _is_ and you ruined _everything!_ ” she cried. Before Ichigo or Rukia could move she ran from the room, the sound of her feet slapping the engawa growing more distant.

Kazui’s eyes looked suspiciously glassy and he scrubbed at them impatiently. “She’s really mad,” he mumbled. “Did you really chase away Abarai-san? Where did he go?”

Rukia just sighed. “I’ll go after her,” she said, but Ichigo rose and stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“I’ll go.” At her incredulous look the corner of Ichigo’s mouth turned up. “Just a feeling,” he said. “Will you help Kazui get settled?”

She didn’t like it, but – Ichika seemed angrier at _her_ than at Ichigo just then. Maybe he was right. “Alright. Why don’t I help you get washed up for dinner, Kazui, and then we’ll all eat together?” Assuming Ichigo could calm down their daughter by then.

The boy looked between them but finally nodded shyly. “Okay,” he said softly. “Can I – wash my hair?”

“Of course you can,” Rukia agreed, and shot another concerned look at Ichigo.

Ichigo squeezed her forearm and dropped a kiss on Kazui’s forehead, then stepped outside.

He doubted that Ichika had gone far. She’d clearly inherited a certain amount of recklessness from him and probably learned more from Renji, but Ichigo didn’t _think_ she’d leave the manor. Soul Society was always so saturated with reishi that it was difficult to find anyone, but Ichigo had always been able to find Rukia no matter what; Ichika was _theirs_ , so maybe he could find her, too.

It only took a moment with his eyes closed to locate her, a ribbon that led to a sullen girl throwing pebbles into one of her uncle’s ponds. At least it wasn’t the one with the white koi. He flash-stepped to her side with ease but rather than speak, he just stood beside her and let her toss the little stones, one after the other, into the water.

“Going to make me apologize to her?” Ichika demanded when she’d tossed in the last one. “Oji-sama always makes me bow and say I’m sorry.”

Ichigo looked down at her. In the dying light from the sunset she looked so much like her mother, bright hair aside: her eyes were Rukia’s, and the stubborn set of her mouth was all hers, as well. “A forced apology isn’t much of one,” he said.

She shoved a stray bang from her face impatiently. “You sound like Nagata-sensei. And _he_ gives me lectures about anger and _trauma_.”

_Ah._ Ichigo turned his head, taking in the pond and the beautiful courtyard surrounding it. She’d chosen a nice location for her sulking. “We hurt you,” he said gently. “Neither of us wanted to, but I understand why you’re angry.”

Ichika scoffed and looked away from him. “Why’d you have to tell everyone?” she asked again. “Kaasan and Tousan were married, why’d you have to come here and mess it all up? And then – then you just _left_ for almost a year!”

His heart clenched and twisted. Beneath her anger he could hear her hurt. And he realized that in trying to protect Kazui, he’d hurt the daughter he’d barely gotten a chance to know. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and his lips curved a little when Ichika looked up at him, surprised. He dropped onto the soft grass, drawing his knees up towards his chest, and after a moment she joined him. “I didn’t want to _mess it up_ ,” Ichigo murmured.

“Well, you did,” she said, but there was less open rancor in her voice.

“Do you think they were happy together?” He watched her carefully. Ichigo was a doctor, but he wasn’t a pediatrician or a psychologist, and he had no idea if Ichika was even mature enough for this conversation. But it seemed better than just telling her that she couldn’t yell at Rukia.

“Hn.” She folded herself up, legs to her chest and arms wrapped over them. “They fought a lot, when they thought I couldn’t hear them,” Ichika admitted. “And they lived in the barracks, not together like my friends’ parents do. Tousan was gone a lot, like he is now. B-but they were _married_ until you came and – and—”

He sighed. “They were. And I told Rukia that I didn’t want her to leave Renji if she loved him. I just wanted to get to know _you_ , Ichika.”

“But she did leave him. And you’re courting her.” His daughter grubbed around for another pebble and flung it into the pond. It sailed over the water and landed in the shallows at the far edge of the body of water; she had a pretty good throwing arm.

“She did, and I am,” Ichigo acknowledged.

“Is it ‘cause of that red thread thing?”

“Aa. You see it too, then?” he asked, and at her nod, Ichigo offered a faint smile. “She and I have always been connected.”

“Always?” Ichika asked skeptically. But she rested her chin on her knees to listen.

“Yeah. Even before this lifetime, I think. Felt that way the first time she stabbed me with her zanpakutō,” Ichigo said, voice soft. He looked up at the darkening sky and closed his eyes for just a second, remembering that moment when she’d changed his entire world and gave him the power he needed to save his family – and protect a whole mountain load of people.

“Wait, she _stabbed you_?” Ichika asked. “Were you fighting against Soul Society or something? Weren’t you just a kid when you met Kaasan?”

He opened his eyes and grinned at her. “I wasn’t fighting Soul Society, but I _was_ just a kid. Rukia was hunting a hollow that was hunting _me_ , because I was already leaking reiatsu all over the place, even as a human. She got hurt and couldn’t kill the hollow – so she stabbed me with Sode no Shirayuki so that I could borrow her powers.”

Ichika was silent for a long moment, and then her head shot up as she blinked up at him, mouth dropping open. “Wait. _You’re_ the ryoka in the story,” she accused. “And Kaasan is the shinigami?!”

_Uh._ “What story?” Ichigo asked, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer already. Zangetsu cackled inside him, all amusement and mirth at his wielder’s sudden dread.

“ _The_ story. _Everyone_ knows it,” Ichika insisted. “A shinigami girl gave her powers to a human boy so that he could save his family and his friends. When the other shinigami found out, they dragged her back to the Seireitei to be executed for her crimes.”

Zangetsu snickered. **Wondered if they’d turn you and the Queen into a story,** he commented. Ichigo huffed softly but didn’t interrupt his daughter.

“The shinigami’s brother tried to kill the boy, but he survived because he loved her so much and got even _more_ powerful because he wanted to rescue her. Then he broke into the Seireitei and fought _everyone_ so that he could save her. He defeated Zaraki Taicho even though he’s one of the strongest men in the Seireitei. He almost didn’t make it!” Ichika exclaimed. “The other shinigami had already brought the girl to the execution site and they released the Sōkyoku to destroy her soul. But the boy got there just in time and he rescued her! He destroyed the Sōkyoku, and then he _kissed_ her right there in front of everyone!”

Ichigo’s cheeks burned as his daughter finished the story and Zangetsu cackled. Further away he could feel Sode no Shirayuki laughing too, not even a little sympathetic. “That’s – not _exactly_ how it went,” he muttered. “I didn’t get to kiss her for another two years.” He shouldn’t have been surprised that Soul Society had turned his rescue of Rukia into a story, he supposed. If he’d had time to think about it back then, the Gotei 13 must have thought he was in love, to take them all on to save her.

She snorted. “But you wanted to,” Ichika guessed.

“Well, yeah,” Ichigo mumbled, cheeks hot again. “But I was sixteen and kind of an idiot, and there was a war.”

Ichika nodded solemnly. “The story says that the ryoka boy sacrificed his powers to save us all and that he and the shinigami shared one last kiss before she disappeared.”

“That’s not how it really happened,” Ichigo said quietly. His arms tightened around his knees. “I didn’t kiss her then, either. I didn’t kiss her until we were training to defeat Yhwach.”

She hummed under her breath. “Why did you leave after telling me that I’m your kid?” she asked, changing the subject. “Kaasan just said you had to go home, and then she got the old people to let her leave Tousan.” Her expression darkened. “She was really upset after meeting with them, and so was Oji-sama. I don’t think they were very nice to her. And then you were gone for a really long time.”

He grunted. “I didn’t want to leave _you_ , either of you. But I had to take care of things in the World of the Living before I could come back.”

“Like Kazui,” she guessed, and as Ichigo watched from the corner of his eye, she shuffled closer. His heart started to beat a little faster.

“Like Kazui,” he agreed. “I want you both to be safe and – taken care of.”

“Is he going to stay here forever?”

“Hn. Not forever,” Ichigo said quietly, and when Ichika shuffled closer again he hesitantly slid an arm around her shoulders. When she didn’t pull away immediately he let out a slow breath, trying to hide his relief. Maybe his daughter didn’t hate him. “But for a while, until we get some things sorted out.”

She huffed again. “And Tousan? He’s coming back too, right? Oji-sama won’t tell me anything.”

Ichigo’s heart lurched, but he squeezed her shoulder lightly. “He’ll be back. I’ll talk to Byakuya about seeing where he is, okay?” _Don’t make me a liar, Renji,_ he thought. As far as he could tell there’d been a détente between the remaining espada and Soul Society since the war, but Byakuya had looked _worried_.

“Okay,” she said, and leaned into him. They stayed like that, watching the last of the sunset, until a servant found them and summoned them to dinner.

Ichigo and Rukia spent the night in the manor, her in her old room and him in a guest space not far from Kazui, and after breakfast Ichika’s tutor greeted them at the door. Ichigo looked over the older man carefully.

“Kurosaki-san,” Nagata said with a shallow bow. “Kazui will join Ichika’s lessons with me while he is here, and he will be free to spend time with you in the late afternoons and evenings,” he explained. “I will begin with an assessment to ascertain his skill level today, and he will be free to join you at lunch.”

Ichigo gave him a brief nod. “I’d like to talk with you about it afterwards. School is a little different in Karakura than it is here.”

“As you say, Kurosaki-san,” Nagata agreed.

Kazui looked up at him. “Wait, I’m not going with you?” he asked. His hair was freshly washed, and he wore a deep blue kimono and hakama, as well as brand new waraji. He tugged anxiously at the obi wrapped around his waist, but didn’t object to his new outfit. Ichigo silently thanked Rukia and whatever manor servant had found brand-new clothes for his son in the last twelve hours.

Ichigo bent down and ruffled his hair again. “I have to work, and Nagata-sensei is a much better teacher than I am. Maybe even better than your teachers at the school in Karakura. I’ll see you again at lunch, okay? But it’s _really_ important that you keep up with your studies while you’re here.”

Kazui pouted a little but he nodded. “Well – if it’s me and Ichika, I guess that’s okay,” he said. The older child smiled at him a little hesitantly.

Nagata nodded to Ichigo and Rukia before urging along his charges. “Lunch will be at one, Kurosaki-san,” he called back.

“Does that mean you’re taking a half day, Kurosaki Fukutaicho?” Rukia asked teasingly when they were alone.

Ichigo grinned down at her. “I was hoping you’d consider taking some of that half day _with_ me, Taicho. Maybe we can all have lunch together, the four of us?”

“Hm. You don’t think Kazui will mind?” Rukia’s feet were quiet as they walked along the engawa and he kept pace with her.

“I don’t think so. You’re Ichika’s mom, after all,” he reassured her. “I could take Ichika the rest of the afternoon, if you want.”

Rukia curled her arm through his. “Alright. But next time you need to ask me for permission ahead of time,” she said loftily, and squawked when Ichigo scooped her up. “Put me _down_ , Ichigo, this is _so_ undign—mmph!” Ichigo’s lips against hers interrupted her, and Rukia slid her arms around his neck as she deepened the kiss and pulled him closer to her.

“Thank you,” he said when they parted, and touched his forehead to hers.

“For what?” Her fingers trailed through his hair and brushed the spiky, bright-hued bangs from his eyes.

“Coming with me to get Kazui and helping him get settled. Convincing Nagata-sensei to tutor him. Oh, and kicking hollow ass and making us look cool in front of him,” Ichigo added jokingly.

Her lips curved and Rukia nuzzled his cheek. “I’m glad that I could,” she said softly.

“Maybe on their rest day you can spend some time with us, too? We can walk through the first district and show Kazui around. Maybe Ichika, too – has she been out of the Seireitei before?” Ichigo set Rukia down gently when she squirmed against him.

“I’ve taken her to several of the districts within the Rukongai,” Rukia said, patting lightly at her blushing cheeks. “And what did I tell you about _manhandling_ me while we’re on duty?” she asked, clearly trying to preserve her dignity.

Ichigo just huffed out a laugh. “We’re not on duty until we get back to the barracks,” he pointed out.

Rukia lightly smacked his chest. “We’re going to be late unless we hurry. Come on,” she ordered, and when she slipped into shunpo he followed.

* * *

He wasn’t sure when he’d last seen the sun. Three months ago? Six? The days had blended into one another in this world of endless night. Renji sheathed Zabimaru as the hollow he’d just killed dissolved into reishi, and then hefted Maekawa back over his shoulder. The man had lost his leg above the knee and the only things holding him together were bandages and hastily cast kido.

Takedo, at least, could still fight, but his left arm was immobilized – it was broken in three places – and like Maekawa, his torso was swathed in bandages from shoulder to waist. Renji wasn’t much better; the top half of his shihakusho was gone, replaced by bloodstained bandages that wrapped around both arms and his abdomen.

“Gotta keep moving, Fukutaicho,” Takedo muttered, hand still on his zanpakutō. He looked around the barren, sandy wasteland nervously. Overhead, the endless night was lit only by a crescent moon. A hollow roared in the distance and they both winced.

Renji scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the feel of the scraggly beard that he’d been growing. Three of his men had fallen, taken down by a vasto lorde, but the other five members of his squad were missing. They’d been gone for more than two months, separated from him in the Forest of Menos on the same day their communications devices had been smashed by a lucky shot from an adjuchas. Their supplies had dwindled down to nearly nothing, and neither Renji nor Takedo had the skill to get a message through to Soul Society.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Maybe we can try the forest again. There’s gotta be _something_. And it’s just _Renji._ Not much use for titles, here.”

The other shinigami sighed, no longer bothering to disguise it. “We’ve looked everywhere but Las Noches,” Takedo pointed out, but he sheathed his blade and adjusted the pack on his shoulders. “Not that we can even find it.”

“Hn. Who knows what those damned espada are up to?” Renji muttered. He set off, following the trail that would take them back toward an entrance to the forest, the underground part of Hueco Mundo where the weaker hollows resided.

“Didn’t a couple of them ally with us during the war?” Takedo asked. “If we could get to Las Noches maybe one of them could open a garganta and get us back to Soul Society.”

The sand underfoot was cold and cutting; Renji left bloodied footprints that disappeared as the surface shifted and buried the red-stained grains. He hefted Maekawa higher on his shoulders and glanced back at his companion. “Maybe Nelliel would,” he agreed reluctantly. “No telling what Grimmjow and Hallibel would do. It wasn’t exactly a _formal_ alliance.”

The man beside him grunted and they fell into silence as they walked together under the moon.

Renji was pretty sure they were going to die here. He didn’t mind the idea of it so much; he’d go down fighting the way he always thought he would, taking out the hollows that tried to prey on the people of the World of the Living. But – Ichika’s face flashed through his mind, hair still crimson in his memory, and he sighed. Daughter by blood or not, he missed her. And he didn’t want to break her heart by dying here, nearly alone in another world.

They walked for hours, traversing endless terrain and finding nothing – not even the sight of Las Noches in the distance. Zabimaru was only a dull hum in the deepest part of him, the zanpakutō as subdued as he was. The nue had kept its own counsel for weeks now, though it still responded whenever Renji released his blade.

“Think we’ll run into that weird shinigami that lives here?” Takedo asked after a while.

If he ever got out of Hueco Mundo, he was going to bathe in the hottest water he could find and make Rangiku buy him a pair of those soft, fleece-lined boots she always raved about. He would have bandaged his feet, but they were running low on clean bandaging. Maybe he could rip off part of his hakama to wrap his feet for a while. “Maybe,” Renji acknowledged. They were close to the underground forest again; he swore he could smell the hollows congregating beneath the sands and through the quartz crystal trees. “Rukia always wondered what happened to him.”

Here, a dimension away from his former wife, bringing her up only hurt a little. He wondered what she was doing, and if Ichigo had finally come to stay in Soul Society. That had been the rumor, before Byakuya sent him on this mission: that the savior of Soul Society was moving there and bringing his kid with him. Renji didn’t believe the part about Kazui – Ichigo’s wife was way too attached to the kid.

The ground moved, suddenly, and Takedo cried out as it gave way beneath them. Renji swore and held on tight to Maekawa as they fell through the fetid air and landed on the ground, encircled by hollows. Renji had Zabimaru unsheathed in a heartbeat and he didn’t hesitate to call, “Now roar, Zabimaru!” as Takedo released his own shikai. The nue rumbled inside and woke up, still ready for a fight after all this time.

The first swath of hollows was easy to kill: they were just fodder, creatures of limited intelligence who dissolved easily under the might of his extending blade and the lightning-fast spear that Takedo wielded. The guy had guts and Renji was grateful that he still had someone to fight alongside as a gillian-class hollow roared its anger to the unseen sky above and leapt for him. Still holding his comrade’s body over his shoulder, Renji bounded and swung Zabimaru again, the serrated edges of the long blade taking out chunks of crystal from the tall, leafless trees. He summoned up a savage grin and swung again, taking out an entire row of the creatures with one blow.

There were more, though, and Takedo fell back, closer to him, as Renji called, “Bankai! Sōō Zabimaru!” The green fur of his zanpakuto’s bankai covered him. “Hihiō Zabimaru!” he cried and the enormous arm that had become part of him swung, crashing into and crushing their enemies. Takedo’s spear darted out at any hollow that got too close, flashing silver in the dark world around them.

“There’s too damn many,” Takedo swore. “We have to cut a path out.”

“Hn.” Renji gave a nod and the arm moved again, crushing another pair of hollows. It took time, but together they cut a path out of the clearing and followed it, dodging hollows and purifying them all the while. Eventually the forest grew quieter and they slowed down, moving more cautiously through the crystal pillars.

“I think I see a cave,” Takedo said quietly. “See that shadow over there?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can hole up for a while,” Renji agreed. Maybe they could even find Kanō. He’d somehow managed to survive decades in Hueco Mundo; maybe he could help them. He adjusted his grip on Maekawa, who groaned faintly, and kept a firm hold on Zabimaru as they skulked toward the cave through the gloom of the forest.

The cave was blessedly free of hollows, and Renji breathed out a faint word of thanks. “We’ll rest in shifts,” he decreed as he and Takedo sealed their weapons and he set their injured companion down carefully toward the back of the cave. As he straightened up he realized there was something in the shadows, and he put his hand back on the hilt of his sword. The other conjured a small light made of kido as he approached it.

Kido light gleamed and bounced back off it in places, and as Renji stepped closer, he realized why. The shape resolved itself into a longhaired brown cloak and several hollow masks, separated from their former owners. He reached out a hand and pulled the cloak up quickly. There was a broken zanpakutō beneath it, the metal already disintegrating.

He bowed his head. Kanō Ashido had met his end here, months or maybe even years ago.

“What’s that?”

Renji dropped the cloak back onto the ground. “Kanō’s dead,” he said bluntly. “This must have been where he stayed when he wasn’t killing hollows.”

Takedo sighed and let his pack fall to the ground as well. “I’m going to see if I can help Maekawa,” he said.

At least he could do that much. Renji swore silently at the fact that neither of them could manage Tenteikūra; maybe they could have found the rest of the squad that way. A quick exploration of the cave showed no evidence that the other five men had ever sought shelter inside its boundaries, and as Renji looked it over he decided that this couldn’t have been Kanō’s home, for lack of a better word. Maybe there were other caves, other places in the forest where his men could be taking shelter.

They stayed in the cave for a time that Renji didn’t bother to measure. Takedo used healing kido to lessen the worst of Maekawa’s wounds and then their own; Renji took first watch and Takedo to the second. They moved on after they’d both gotten some rest.

Hours later, or maybe days, they stumbled onto a whole company of adjuchas and Renji swore as he grabbed for Zabimaru once more.

Takedo, carrying Maekawa, fell first, bloodied and with one arm nearly ripped off as he took out one last hollow with his spear. Renji swore and scrubbed blood from his eyes, the result of a wound to his temple that bled like a stuck pig. Something grabbed at his ankles and he swore again, whipping Zabimaru around to dislodge whatever had grabbed him. He took a hollow’s hands off at the wrists and cringed away from the high-pitched shriek the thing let out in response. His blade swung again and came down through the thing’s mask, purifying it and stopping its screams.

But there were more, so many more, and a set of claws dug through the muscles of his back as he spun to avoid the stinger of an upright hollow with a scorpion’s tail. Renji called for his bankai desperately but it couldn’t stop the bleeding, and he roared with pain as another adjuchas got past his guard and ripped open the skin along his ribcage. Blood dripped on the ground beneath him and spilled from his mouth, coughed up and spit out when it choked him.

The arm of his bankai swung and knocked away his enemies, but Renji swayed from the blood loss. His crimson hair fell free around him as he swung once more and collapsed, the crystal quartz pillars blurring in his vision.

As he fell, Renji saw a flash of Ichika’s face, and then nothing.

The remaining adjuchas drew closer, cautious but eager as their opponent’s bankai disappeared and left only a sealed sword. “ _Three_ shinigami,” one crowed. “Delicious.”

“I don’t want the crippled one, you can have that one,” said another.

A long, oddly shaped shadow fell over them. “ _I_ will take all three,” its owner said in a deep voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Ashido was anime-only, but I wanted to include him here (and kill him off, apparently - sorry Ashido!)
> 
> The title for this chapter is a reference to the phrase, "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."


End file.
